


Secrets running in your veins

by ThisBirdWithoutACage



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: A crap tone of others, Alternate version of the club scene, Blood and Gore, Captivity, Charley's not entirely normal, Jerry is a creep, Jerry is his own warning, Kidnapping, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Movie, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, and a jerk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:46:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10029956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisBirdWithoutACage/pseuds/ThisBirdWithoutACage
Summary: Things can't get any worse. Or so Charley thinks. Being kidnapped, held hostage in some godforsaken place with a vampire who's hell bent on draining the life out of him, and on top of that being continuously tormented. So no, he didn't think it could get any worse.Until said vampire tried to turn him. And promptly failed.





	1. Hell hath no fury like Jane Brewster

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, first Fright Night fanfic. I'm so excited to be in this small fandom; this pairing needs a lot more love. Think of the endless possibilities. I mean, have you ever noticed that every single character pretty much wants to molest Charley? I noticed and immediately wanted to cradle the poor kid away. Still kind of sad about Anton Yelchin, but at the same time, Colin Farrell is magnificent. I loved him as Percival Graves and I love him even more now. Those eyebrows just kill me
> 
> So yeah, I know this first chapter isn't too exciting but I hate hate rewriting scenes people have already seen. There will be a flashback to the club scene and definitely how it's different.

Jane Diandra Brewster hated her name. 

It’s old fashioned, a name that paled in comparison to the other girls in her class. Her parents could have been more original, or at least, in her opinion. Jessica was a nice name; common in her class or even Michelle. There were lots of girls in her class with more modern, upbeat and peppy names. She’s just plain Jane or even worse, Janey. Named after her grandmother that she’s never even met since the old woman is buried deep in the ground. Has been since before she was even born.

There’s nothing truly eventful about her life, or so she had thought. She’s an only child living with deeply devout Protestant parents who pray at every meal and attend church every Sunday no matter the weather. She’s not allowed to watch certain cartoons on tv and she can’t go hang out with kids who her parents deem as “heathens”. Every summer, the day after school lets out, they send her five hours away from her hometown of Belvedere to Etna, where her mother’s old decrepit mother resides.

Her grandmother is tall, still holding herself with an air of grace despite being in her late seventies. Looking through old photos, her grandmother had once been very beautiful, resembling her mother quite a bit. Her short, crudely cut, silvery white hair is usually held in a low bun yet she can’t recall ever seeing the woman with long hair. The one time she had touched it, when she was very little, it felt even softer than silk.  The old woman stares down at her with shrewd blue eyes that look sickly due to her old age but are so piercing that she feels like a rabbit being watched by a hawk. She hates staying with the woman and she thinks the old woman hates having her over too. 

Her grandfather passed away before she was born; a heart attack if she remembers correctly and her mother’s older sister, her Aunt Diane, disappeared from home at the age of seventeen and no one has heard from her since. She’s seen pictures of her, though they’re hard to find and her mother refuses to talk about her. She was a pretty girl, with long platinum blonde hair that reminded her of Marilyn Monroe and large blue eyes that were the same color as her grandmother’s. Her own mother resembled this girl, except her hair was a darker blonde and her eyes less than warm. No one ever talks about her and if she hadn’t found the photo of her, she might not have ever known the woman existed. 

“Ran away,” is what her mother said when she asked her about the beautiful girl. “Deserted her family and eloped with a boy is probably what she did. Lord knows she had a lot of callers.”

Her grandmother says something along those lines and she’s learned over the years that once her grandmother's done talking, she’s done. The subject is painful for both of them, she can see that, so she doesn’t do it often. 

There’s nothing really to do in the town and while most kids wait all year for the promised vacation, she dreads it. It’s nothing more than a break for her parents who never really seem to want anything to do with her. As an adult, when she reflects back to her childhood as her own son grows up, she can recall it as being unusually lonely.

Yet as of right now, she’s ten years old. It’s June and the weather is warm with a slight breeze in the air. It’s the perfect weather to go outside but her grandmother takes one good look at her and sets her knitting needles down. She walks briskly to the window and shoves her aside, where she’d been sticking her head out to get some fresh air. “I know what you’re about to do,” the old woman snaps at her, as though she’s been an annoying pest. “You were thinking of sneaking outside!”

“I was not!”

“Oh don’t think of lying,” the old woman wags a finger in front of her. “Your mother had the same look when she was a brat about your age. Then she discovered her bible and became even more annoying. Does she still read it in her free time?”

“Yes,” she answers back. Not because she cares but rather she’d not be lectured for being impertinent. Whatever that word meant. “She reads it all the time. I think she has the entire thing memorized, so I don’t get why she’s still reading that boring old thing .”

The woman is still glaring at her, but she swears she sees her upper lips twitch upwards. “Now mind yourself, that’s your mother you're talking about,” her grandmother sits back down in her chair, resuming her knitting. “And stay away from that window. The people of this family attract nothing but trouble.”

She frowns, heading over to take a seat on the couch right across from her. “What kind of trouble?”

“Never mind that; just trouble.”

“Why?”

Her grandmother eyes her irritably. “It’s no wonder why your parents send you here every year; you’re a nosy little thing,” she shakes her head, the clacking of her needles filling in the temporary silence. When the old bat still notices her staring, she glares. “Well what are you looking at? Do you have any manners?”

She wants to say no just to irritate her but when she opens her mouth, she reconsiders. She picks up one of the yarn balls, tossing it absentmindedly in her two hands. “Grandma?” she asks instead, the word feeling strange to say. “Can I ask you a question.”

“I suppose,” there’s another pause. “Go on.”

“Why can’t I go outside? I have to come here every summer and I can’t even go out to make new friends. There’s nothing to do here and I’m bored. So why do I have to be here?”

She expects her grandmother to snap, yell at her even, but it startles her when the old woman laughs. It’s not friendly or pleasant be, rather that she’s laughing over something completely unexpected or what she finds unusually funny. She suddenly stops laughing and leans forward, knitting work in her lap now as she grips her chin in a surprisingly gentle manner. “Now you listen here,” she’s stern once more, cold blue eyes like ice. “The people in this family have a nasty habit of attracting the wrong sort of attention. Your mother was lucky; all she did was read her bible and go to church but you. Oh, I see it in you. You’re not the type to sit at home all day and be a good girl. Your parents are going to have an interesting time when you hit puberty. In fact, you’re just like your aunt in that regard.”

She’s not entirely sure what puberty is; she’s heard the word thrown around before but she tilts her head. “Why?”

“You’ll understand when you’re older. I’ll explain things then.”

Her grandmother never got the chance to. The following March her grandmother died in her sleep while a fire burned her home down to the ground. The body was so badly burned that the funeral was close casketed; to not ruin the image of how people saw the bitter old woman. The funeral’s held in a church two weeks later, with the whole town attending dressed in black formal wear. She’d never been to a funeral before and as she sat with her parents in the front pew, she decided she never wanted to attend another one.

She also swore she could see her grandmother standing next to the coffin, She doesn’t know how but she’s sure it’s her. Only she’s young and her hair is long and once more beautiful. When she blinks, her grandmother’s  gone. 

She never spent another summer in that old small town.

~

The summer of 1993 is probably the most adventurous summer she’d ever had. 

The summer before her senior year is undoubtedly the best and worst time of her life. The calm before the storm. The first time she’d ever felt the bittersweetness of her first love. After months of begging her parents finally relented to let her go to San Francisco with her friends with the condition she stays with her father’s sister, Aunt Linda. 

The city is only thirty-eight minutes from her town yet the promise of being away from home and with her friends is the first time she’s ever looked forward to summer. Her Aunt is much more tolerable and at times, actually kind of fun. She’s more free spirited than her father, something she knows he doesn’t like and that’s the main reason she’s never spent much time with the woman. Aunt Linda is unmarried and has no children. She used to be what most people call “A hippie.” 

Yet Aunt Linda doesn’t make her have a curfew. She just tells her every morning to be safe and then winks before she heads out the door. Her Aunt is the first person in her life to ever let her be free and this first taste of freedom has her wanting more. 

A week and a half into their summer and she meets him.

It’s been going to the beach and parties mostly. While most of the guys she’s met are total losers, with sticky hair and sticky lips, she still feels a sense of loneliness. There’s a sort of ache she feels; a missing piece to fill the void. She wants love; she wants it more than anything else. She’s never given herself completely to any boy; not even her ex. Her ex-boyfriend who dumped her two months ago said it was because she wasn’t giving him sex and to be honest, she didn’t regret it. If that’s the reason he dumped her, fine. She didn’t need him anyway and she certainly wasn’t sad to see him go. He just adds on to the reason she’s never been truly unguarded.

She’s at Baker Beach with her four friends, splashing each other playfully in the ocean when she sees him. He’s standing near them, with blue swim trunks and a white t-shirt, toes digging into the sand as he stares ahead. His face is framed gently with dark curly hair, matching nicely with his strong jawline. He’s very pale, not like the guys she’s been seeing at parties and she can’t but find that oddly attractive. When he notices her eyeing him, he turns his face to her and she’s caught up in the most beautiful shade of green she’s ever seen in her entire life. So soulful and alluring, drawing her in till she can’t recall another pair of eyes that have had this affect on her. 

His name is Michael. And that’s all she knows about him.

When he smiles, the world seems to light up even more. It’s the first time she’s ever been in love. He’s the first boyfriend she’s ever been in love with and she can’t even explain why. He’s with her almost all the time; her friends even like him and she takes a small bit of satisfaction at their jealousy. That she has a summer boyfriend and they don’t. They find ordinary boys; college boys that they’ll forget once summer is over. Michael adores her. She can see it every time he’s looking at her; listening to her speak  with an attentiveness she doesn't find in most guys. He never pressures her into anything, allowing her to take control situations at her own pace. It’s the first time she’s ever been given this freedom as well.

By the end of July, she gives herself to him. Her Aunt is at some art gallery event and they’re in her room. It was just kissing at first and then she finds herself on her back, with him over her, lost in his beautiful eyes. There’s some blood and a little rush of pain but he holds her so carefully in his arms that she almost forgets it. She lets him love her and if this is heaven, she doesn’t ever think she wants to leave.

_ Summer’s all in bloom. Summer’s ending soon. _

Wednesday, September 1, they part ways. It hurts more than she ever thought it would and the whole ride back home, she’s fighting back the tears. Leaving her aunt was hard to do and she vowed to keep in touch with her, even agreeing to stay with her before college. She dreads going home; back to a place where she isn’t understood. Sometimes she wonders if her parents wished they had a different daughter. 

That following Monday she goes to school and all she can think of his him. Michael with his soft hair and beautiful green eyes. It’s just a summer romance; she knows it was nothing more than that, but she didn’t expect it to still hurt after weeks into the school year. 

It also doesn’t help she’s pregnant.

She’s always been irregular so she didn’t think anything of it when she missed her last period. Now it’s the beginning  of October and nothing’s happened. She’s so scared; so terrified. She knows who the father is but has no idea how to reach him. She knows where he works and when she dials the number and asks for his name, there’s a pause and a reply that there’s never been a Michael working for them. He lied to her; everything about him was a lie and she fell for it. Who was he then?

She gets a friend to drive her to the nearest town to get a pregnancy test. She doesn’t know what to do and when the result is positive, her friend looks at her differently. As though she’s no longer Jane, honor roll student with a promising future, but Jane the whore who got knocked up by her summer boyfriend. 

She can’t keep it hidden forever. Her parents are starting to notice something wrong with her; she’s acting differently and she most definitely notices her stomach expanding. In mid-November, she tells them. It’s a blustery evening, chilly and they have the fire going. She had been upstairs, pretending to do homework and when she comes down, she’s full of apprehension. Her mother is crocheting a bible quote to eventually frame and hang in their church.  Her father is reading and at first they don’t notice her until she clears her throat.

“Mom, Dad,” they look at her questioningly, setting their tasks down. She crosses her hands in front of her, not meeting their eyes. “There’s something I need...There’s something I need to tell you.”

They don’t say anything but they continue to stare at her. She’s never been this uncomfortable before; she can’t think of a time where she didn’t have confidence. But now, she feels so small underneath their scrutinizing gaze. She takes a deep breath, letting loose the gates of hell. “I’m pregnant.”

They’re still silent, the color from their faces draining. She steps forward, feeling the tears slipping down her cheeks. “Mom, Dad, I’m so sorry! It was stupid and irresponsible and-”

She didn’t even see her father get up. Nor did she see the hand that strikes her quickly across the face. She registers her mother scream in the background but all she feels now is hot pain throbbing in her cheek. Her father, she’s never seen him this angry before and all of a sudden, she feels like a little girl. Defenseless. Helpless. Completely at the mercy of her father. 

“You’re a whore,” he snarls at her. He’s not yelling but he might as well be. The words hurt more than the stinging feeling in her cheek. “I knew we shouldn’t have let you go to that city! You’ve ruined everything! You had to spread your legs open like so goddamn prostitute! Now you’ve got a bastard child coming into this world!”

“Peter!” her mother’s crying now, tugging on his arm to let go of her. “Peter, stop! Let go of her!”

“She’s pregnant, Martha! Pregnant! Our daughter is pregnant!”

“I know,” she meets her mother’s eyes. It’s like looking at a stranger; her mother doesn’t seem to see her at all. “You were right, that trip was a bad idea. What are the people at church going to think? We’ll be scorned!”

All of a sudden, it’s as though she’s no longer there. Her name is never mentioned, it’s only about them. Their reputation, their status at church. They’re not upset about the pregnancy itself, they’re more upset with the fact their livelihood is being threatened. She’s not their daughter, she’s become an inconvenience. She’s living in a house of strangers. A pity she just now realizes that.

She’s sent to her room for the night, but even as she lies in bed clutching her pillow tightly, she can hear them. She presses a hand to her growing stomach and for a moment, she feels a surge of motherly protectiveness. Her son or daughter needed her. 

She loved Michael; she trusted him enough to let him keep her virginity. That’s her story and she doesn’t regret it at all. This is a chance. A new chance whispering in her ear that she can make a fresh start. The beginning of a new stage in her life. This baby was her salvation, a way for her to get out of this unloving and cold house. 

Word spreads quickly of course. She knows her so-called friend spread it around and all day, she hears the word “whore” and “slut” thrown around. They sting, but strangely enough, that’s all it does. A wall has built around her; built around her baby. She only shakes her head at them. They’re only children; that’s all they are. 

When she gets home, her parents are waiting for her in the living room. Her aunt is driving down from the city to pick her up. She’s going to stay with her; finish high school in one of the city’s schools. She has an hour to pack and then they leave to go into the kitchen. No goodbyes. Not an “I love you” or anything. She packs all the clothes she can; taking a few other things and waits for her aunt in the living room. 

When Aunt Linda pulls into the driveway and steps out, she waltzes right into the house and to where her parents are. There’s fifteen minutes of the three of them whisper-yelling before her Aunt takes her by the arm, grabbing her suitcase and placing her gently in the passenger side.

“You don’t have to go back,” the woman tells her, staring stonily ahead as cold rain taps the window. “If you don’t want to go back, I won’t make you. You’re almost eighteen. I’m not exactly pleased with the situation, but I’m here. I’m here for you and that little baby, so don’t hesitate to ask me for anything.

She doesn’t say anything, but a few more tears slip down her face. She’s free. She’s finally free. It’s also the last time she ever sees her parents for a very long time.

~

She settles into her new life fairly fast.

The city holds nothing but bittersweet memories and no matter how hard she searches, she can’t find Michael. Their baby seems to grow bigger everyday and the due date is set in April. Her life becomes a boring routine very quickly. People at school begin to talk but she doesn’t care. They’ll graduate in a few months and she’ll never see most of them again. “Let them talk,” she thinks. “See how much of a difference it’ll make.”

Michael, the very name leaves a sour flavor in her mouth. Did he even exist? It’s a stupid question; she knows as her baby kicks against her stomach to remind her. What did she even know about him? Other than his features and quiet nature, she can’t seem to recall anything about him. It’s as though he followed her around over the summer like an obedient dog waiting on its master to speak. San Francisco’s huge; there’s no way she’ll ever be able to find him. She doesn’t even know his last name or where he lives. If anything, he might have just been visiting the city for the summer just like her. It’s hopeless, not something she wants to dwell on. This baby is her responsibility now and in a way, he’s her salvation from a cold distant home. 

She spends most of her afternoons and weekends working at an ice cream shop, her aunt setting the job up for her since she’s friends with the manager. Her name’s Nancy and she’s a kind woman. She keeps her opinions to herself and never ridicules her for the choices she’s made. She almost died of a heroin overdose thirty years ago and since then, she’s been drug free. She has no room to judge anyone else’s choices. 

It’s monotonous and a bit lonely, but she pushes on. February arrives; she turns eighteen and her aunt throws a surprise birthday party at the shop. Nancy’s there, a few friends she’s made at school are there and as she blows out the candles, she can feel her baby kick. 

When the due date comes around, she’s graduated early due to her circumstances. She’s sitting at home, watching TV at night when she feels pain and notices her water broke. Aunt Linda rushes her to the hospital and she’s in there the rest of the day, waiting for her little one to come out. Five a.m the next day, April 20, her son enters the world with a sharp scream. 

She names him Charley and her heart surges with joy when she holds him in her arms for the first time. He calms down after a while, gazing up at her with eyes that can’t see very well yet. She’s only held him for a few minutes and already she loves him.

After a month, she returns to work leaving her son at home with a sitter. She works full time, paying rent to her aunt and saving up for school. She doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life, but right now, all she can think of is saving money to work. 

A year goes by. She doesn’t hear from her parents and she doesn’t care. Neither she nor Aunt Linda have heard from them and she refuses to ever let them see Charley. They’re his grandparents by blood, but not by bond and they’re better off without them. They won’t love him like she and her aunt do. It’s when he’s a year old she notices. He has his father’s eyes and once more, she feels pain. 

She’s twenty-one and announces to her aunt that she’s going to be moving out and register for her salesperson education. Charley’s three and he cries when she tells him they’re leaving Aunt Linda’s house. They get their own little apartment not too far away.

Six months later, she’s passed her exams with flying colors. Top of her class and is offered a job from a company that needs an agent to sell houses in a growing suburb in Las Vegas, Nevada. It’s her first opportunity and she takes it. She finds a home in a neighborhood nearby; a cheap little two bedroom house that they won’t stay in forever. She sells the apartment, quits her job and bids her aunt farewell as she takes Charley  to start their new life.

She’s making good money; enough to support her and Charley. He’s at daycare and quickly makes friends with two little boys, Adam Johnson and Edward “Ed” Lee. Their lives are normal. Stressful at times, but normal. She’s proud of herself, proud that years of hard work have paid off and she can raise her son in a comfortable lifestyle.

Charley’s a good boy. A troublemaker, especially with his two friends, but he has a good nature. Shy but eager to please and he never fails to brighten up her day. He grows everyday, so fast she doesn’t even have time to blink. She can barely keep up with him half the time. It’s both endearing and worrisome. Every so often, her grandmother’s words from long ago creep into her head.  _ “The people in this family attract nothing but trouble.” _

To this day, she has no idea what the old woman meant. It’s been so long; she’s starting to forget what the woman sounded like. Until she wakes up in the middle of the night, almost giving herself a heart attack when she swears she sees her cold piercing eyes staring down at her. Charley apparently heard her wake up and he spends the night in her bed, promising that he’ll protect her from the monsters. He’s only eight and already thinks she needs protection. 

Later that day, it’s her day off and they’re at the park. He’s swinging on the swings; she’s reading a book and when she looks up, he’s gone. She almost has another heart attack until she sees him sitting on a park bench a little further away talking with a man with wild white-gray hair and a dirty coat. As she storms quickly over, she nearly stops.

For a moment, she could have sworn that the man snarled at her and his eyes flashed luminescent yellow.

She pushes past that fear (Charley’s the most important person in her life, after all) and grabs her son. The man disappears as she pulls him away to the car, giving him the biggest lecture on not talking to strangers and grounding him for the rest of the day. He’s confused, and a bit upset at being grounding, but she doesn’t care. 

She feels uneasy for the rest of the day, keeping him close to her at all costs. 

It rains that night; something it doesn’t do very often and she can’t sleep. She gets out of bed to check on the small boy who’s fast asleep in his bed, glow in the dark stars faintly illuminating the room. Ed helped him put it up, the two of them talking about some TV show (Goosebumps or something of that sort), and sticking random stars and planets on the ceiling. He’s sleeping soundly in his bed, the steady rise and fall of his chest easing the worry plaguing her mind. The rain taps loudly against his window, the occasional flash of lightening soon followed by thunder echoing in her ears distantly.

_ “The people in this family attract nothing but trouble.” _

She leaves to go to the bathroom, running cool water over her face. She’s never been this paranoid before; it’s very unlike her but she can’t shake the feeling. That man, whatever he was, wasn’t right, but she couldn’t place why. She’s doesn’t believe in superstition or creatures that go bump in the night; she’s a realist for crying out loud. The man must have been on drugs, yes, that’s what it was. 

She walks back to Charley’s room, glass of water in her hand that she nearly drops when she looks inside. Standing at the foot of her son’s bed is her grandmother. She knows it’s her; even though she looks like a woman in her twenties in a transparent white dress. Her silvery blonde hair, long and swaying behind her even though there’s no breeze to move it. Her eyes are still that piercing cold shade of blue that makes her insides freeze when that horrid gaze meets hers. Her grandmother doesn’t smile at her or make any other facial gesture. She simply extends her arm and points towards the form of her sleeping child.

“Nine years,” her voice rasps, wispy and echoing around her like the wind. “Nine years…”

“What?” she steps forward, every part of her screaming to get Charley away from the old woman. “Grandma, what are you talking about?”

The woman just stares at her, still pointing at Charley. “Nine years,” she says for the third time, gaze never leaving hers. “Death’s crooked smile will come in nine years.”

Then she’s gone, evaporating from the room in a cloud of mist. She stands there, the water in her glass now frozen over. She blinks several times, jaw hanging open in shock that she can’t quite process yet. Charley turns in his sleep, completely unaware of the world. His gaze is peaceful, with a little sigh coming from him. 

She’s not sure what to do. She wants to wake him up, ask if he’s okay, but he doesn’t appear to be harmed. She heads back to bed, the water now thawing as she crawls back under the covers. She doesn’t get any sleep that night and at breakfast, the small boy comments about it with the little face he makes when he’s worried or concerned. It’s cute, but she can’t focus right now.

She decides to push it away. She must have been dreaming or imagining things. Yesterday’s incident left her extremely stressed out so that’s why she’d seen the illusion of her grandmother who’s been dead for almost sixteen years. 

So when Charley asks her if she could pass the milk for his cereal, she hands it to him with a smile. She forgets about last night’s incident, pushing it away to the further recesses of her mind. 

She doesn’t think about the visit for exactly nine years.

~

A year later, she and Charley move into the suburbs she’s been selling houses in. Ed and Adam both live in the neighborhood, so it’s no surprise that the boy’s excited about it. They spend their days in the summer running back and forth to each others’ houses to play Pokemon or whatever it is that kids are into. It’s always calming to her when he’s happy; that he still a child who has nothing to fear in this world yet. He’s a good boy; a lot braver than he gives himself credit for. The bullies at school pick on them a lot; Ed more than the other two. She’s had Charley come home roughed up from fights though it’s nothing too serious. Just a few bruises on his legs because clearly these boys don’t know how to fight yet. Not that she wants Charley to come home with a broken nose and black eyes, of course. 

They’re not popular, but at the moment, Charley doesn’t care about that. He just likes hanging out with his two best friends.

The boy gets along with everyone in their neighborhood, especially their neighbors the Perrys. The Perrys have a daughter of their own though she’s  a senior in high school who likes to babysit Charley when she has to work overtime. The boy had a not so secret crush on her and when she leaves to go to college that next year, he’s upset but he does his best to hide it.

When Charley turns seventeen, the Perry’s put their house up for sale. Their daughter is graduated from college; a dental assistant now and expecting triplets with her husband. By June, they’ve moved all the way to Santa Barbara to be closer to their daughter and son-in-law while she has numerous families over to try and sell the house.

Charley’s changed quite a lot. It was a surprise to her when he invited Mark and Ben, two boys she’s never quite approved of (for good reason); who bullied him and his two friends for years, to their house. Adam and Ed stop coming over and she’s no fool. She knows what’s going on; she’s seen it before. Charley’s befriended the popular crowd and while she’s happy he’s no longer being bullied, she can’t help but feel a little sad. Charley’s never going to completely fit in with these kids. She suspects his girlfriend, Amy Peterson, knows this but she’s figured the girl’s had a crush on him for awhile now despite his apparent “geekiness”. She only wishes he would see that. Oh, and if he would stop inviting Mark and Ben over that would be great too. 

It isn’t until late February that a man named Jeremiah “Jerry” Dandridge moves into the house. He’s attractive though she can’t help but feel he has an odd manner about him. He’s quiet but though she won’t say it outloud, there’s something about him. Something that warns her to keep her distance; to make sure Charley keeps his distance too. Still, she’ll be friendly enough and it would truly make things better if he got rid of that obnoxious dumpster. What an eyesore; how was she supposed to sell houses with that thing obstructing everyone’s view?

She’s also not a fan of the way he looks at her son; like a predator ready to pounce. 

~

It’s every mother’s worst nightmare to hear that their child is missing.

“We’re sorry, Mrs. Brewster,” the officer addressing her is tall, with fading dark brown hair and a large bushy moustache. His gaze is expectant as if he’s waiting for her to break down and cry but all she does is press her lips together worriedly. 

“It’s Ms. Brewster,” she corrects absently, not at all caring to see the flush forming on his cheeks. “There’s no Mr. Brewster in the picture.”

“My apologies,” the officer, she can’t recall his name at the moment nor does she particularly care, apologies with a darkening flush over his face. He shuffles his feet awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say at first. If this is his first time delivering bad news to a devastated mother, he’s doing a bang up job so far. He clears his throat, gathering himself up with a deep breath. “The man we’re looking for, a Jeremiah Dandrige, you believe he has your son?”

“I’m certain of it,” the thought of the...vampire or whatever Charley said he was is enough to send more shards of ice cold fear down her body. She adjusts herself, ignoring the pain in her head as she attempts to swing her legs over the bedside. “I have to find my son; he’s in danger! You have no idea what that thing is capable of!”

“Please, ma’am, you shouldn't move,” the officer steps forward, placing firm hands carefully on her shoulders. “Please, I don’t want you hurting yourself. We will find your son, Ms. Brewster. I will do everything in my power to make sure he comes back safe and sound.”

She wants to believe him, she really does, but there’s a feeling of hopelessness rising in her. “He’s not normal,” she feels tears sting in her eyes at the very memory. How the hand had reached up into the car; the way he nearly killed Charley if she hadn’t of stabbed him with a sale’s sign. There’s no way the police, helpful as they try to be, will ever be able to catch Jerry. She’s not foolish enough to even hope that they do. “He’ll kill you,” she protests, looking him directly in the eye. “He’ll kill your entire force in minutes! I saw him lift a car without breaking a sweat! He lit a cross on fire with his hand!”

“No one can light a cross on fire with their hand,” he’s not scoffing at her, but he’s definitely looking at her like she’s high on whatever drugs their pumping through her system to ease her pain. “Ma’am, you were injured; you must have been seeing things. From Mr. Dandrige’s description, there’s no way he could lift a car like that.”

He looks down to a paper, most likely the report she gave him. For a moment, she saw the words “delusions of man turning into a monster” and “hit her head pretty hard against the air bag”. She tightens her fist in anger but she’s not surprised. They weren’t going to believe her; no one else but Amy and Charley were there to witness what had happened. Not to mention that poor old man that Jerry, her stomach tightens painfully at the memory, bit into and drained completely. 

She’d only woken up recently, a few hours ago, with Amy by her side in tears. The blonde haired teen had already notified the police; hence the officer in her room right now, but she’s never seen the girl this upset. She had been earlier when they both believed Charley had completely lost it, but now, she knows Amy feels just as guilty and scared as she does. 

The hospital had called the girl’s parents a while ago and Amy, still quite distraught and afraid, practically had to be dragged out from her room. Mr. and Mrs. Peterson, very confused and irritated by their daughter’s behavior and she had heard them scolding her for taking off in the middle of the night without telling them. 

“Ms. Brewster? Ms. Brewster are you alright?”

No, she’s not. Her son has been kidnapped. By a vampire, of all things! What’s the point of asking a stupid question like that? “No,” she’s beyond feeling conversational; all she wants is to leave this place and go find her son and hopefully stab Jerry in the heart while she’s at it. “My son is missing and I have no idea what’s happening to him! He could be dead and here you are asking me how I am! Who cares about me! Go find my son!”

The officer doesn’t look like he appreciates being snapped at. His eyebrows narrow in irritation and his body goes stiff. “We’ll keep you posted,” he looks at her once more, wondering if she’ll snap at him again, and the slides the glass screen door open to leave.

She rests back against her pillows, hand placed over her eyes. Her body is aching and she knows she needs more medicine to dull it out, but how can she even think to rest while her son’s been kidnapped and possibly being violated by that creepy vampire? She wants to leap out of bed, be fully recovered and get her son back; to hold him in her arms like she did when he was younger. 

She feels tears sting her eyes but she doesn’t allow them to fall. She hasn’t cried in years and it won’t bring her son back. He’s more than likely more scared than she is and that fact alone makes her eyes burn even stronger. The very thought of him, cold, terrified and at Jerry’s mercy...it’s enough to send her heart racing.

She shivers, rubbing her arms at the sudden cold chill that’s come through. If at all possible, her heart practically stops. There’s a pounding burst in her head and she almost doubles in over at the blindingly painful sensation. She’s never felt this before and her hand scrambles to find the button next to her bed; to get a nurse. She can feel it behind her eyelids, holding her head tightly as she curls in a ball. 

“I warned you.”

The pain is suddenly gone and as she lifts her head, she can see the breath she exhaled. She’s freezing, the feeling of gooseflesh rising on her arms and she shivers in spite of herself. The tears stinging her eyelids are now stuck to her long lashes, like frozen crystallized raindrops. She knows this feeling; she knows who she’s talking to.

Her grandmother, for the first time in nine years, has shown herself once more. She’s still unbelievably young looking; beautiful platinum blonde hair flowing naturally in a breeze that didn’t exist. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to her grandmother’s cold and piercing gaze. Those ice blue eyes that, if possible, can see straight into her soul. There’s no warmth; no kindness or love in her gaze. Only cold amusement and an ethereal feeling that chills her to the very core. 

“I warned you,” her grandmother points a long slim finger at her. It’s accusing, as though she’s the one who’s done something terribly wrong. “I told you death would come. You were a foolish girl growing up, Jane. You’re a foolish woman now.”

“Go away!” she doesn’t have time for this, now while Charley’s in some demon’s hands. The room grows colder and her teeth begin to chatter violently and she knows her lips and skin are probably turning an interesting shade of blue and purple. “If...if...you’re here to...mock me...d...don’t b...bother!”

“He’s an interesting one, your little Charley,” her grandmother speaks as though she didn’t hear her last sentence. Her fingers run through her beautiful hair absentmindedly as though she’s enjoying the feeling of it against her skin. Her gaze, never blinking, still holds her captive. “I wonder how long he’ll last against one of  _ them _ . You should have looked after him better, Jane.”

She’s tempted to roll her eyes and if she were better, she’d get up to give the woman a good throttle, but she can’t. She can’t do anything in the state she’s in. “Yes, it’s common knowledge that vampires exist,” she can’t help but feel a little satisfied when her grandmother frowns. “How was I supposed to know? Why are you here if you’re not going to be helpful?”

Her grandmother steps forward without a sound. She hasn’t felt this afraid since a few days ago while being chased by a crazed lunatic vampire. Her grandmother’s face is right in hers and her face twitches slightly as cold breath hits her face. Those eyes are even crueler up close. “Impertinent girl,” her grandmother snarls inhumanly, fingers gripping her chin painfully tight. “You don’t even know what he’s planning. It’s going to be so ironically hilarious.”

Her heart rises up into her throat at the thinly veiled promise. No, threat. “What do you know?” the cold woman only grins inhumanly wide. “Tell me! What’s going to happen to Charley? Tell me! Tell me!”

“Jane!”

The door is thrown open, with two nurses and her Aunt Linda running in. Her grandmother’s gone; the cold front is gone too and her aunt is holding her down with firm hands. She looks concerned, her lips twisting with worry as a nurse pulls out a sedative. She thrashes against the woman’s hold, barely even registering the tears welling up in the old woman’s eyes. 

It’s too much, everything is too much. She wants to throw these people away from her and run out these doors. She’s not typically this impulsive; hasn’t been since she was a teenager but she wants to tear her way out of the hospital, out of Vegas and hunt down the creature who dared take her child.  _ Her baby. _ There’s a burning rage coursing through her veins, something no one but another mother would understand. She wants her baby back in her arms; to protect him from all the evil that’s in the world. It’s futile; there’s no changing the fact that Jerry has him, but hell hath no fury like a mother. There’s nothing more terrifying than an enraged mother who’s had her child threatened. She would make sure Jerry understood that by the time she’s done with him. 

Those are her last thoughts as she slips away into her drugged-induced sleep.


	2. Lamb to the slaughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charley finds himself in the hands of a monster he doesn't want to be near.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, Google thinks I'm spelling Charley's name wrong xD  
> Thanks for all the comments! Well hopefully this is a bit more exciting than the last chapter but we do get a little insight. A bit of foreshadowing to things coming up in future chapters. Hopefully you stay tuned! Midterms are coming up (yuck) but spring break starts next weekend, so yay!

In hindsight, Charley wonders if he should have seen it coming.

He’s never believed in the supernatural; never in anything outside of the normal realm of possibility. He’s a normal teenager living in typical suburbs; a “cookie cutter lifestyle” if you will. He’s been unpopular for most of his life up until last year when he stopped hanging out with Ed and Adam. He began to date Amy Peterson, one of the, if not the most popular girl in school. All of a sudden he’s no longer Charley, geeky nerd who hangs out with losers, but Charley, Amy Peterson’s boyfriend. Mark and Ben, who’ve bullied him all his life are now his friends. Not close friends; he can’t stand them in actuality, but it’s been so stress free to actually fit in that he can’t help but put up with it.

Then Jerry fucking Dandridge moved into the neighborhood.

There’s a sharp, blinding pain in the back of his skull that moves to the back of his eyes as he wakes. His whole body is stiff with a dull ache that only seems to hurt more when he moves. He can’t move his arms and there’s a sharp feeling of rope or some sort of crude material cutting into his skin. The car’s moving, which only gives him a feeling vertigo. Sitting up only causes causes the pain in his shoulders and neck to hurt a little more but he has to know where he is. He knows he’s moving; probably in a car, but who’s driving?

“Good morning Sleeping Beauty,” a voice breaks the silence and it’s particularly grating on his ears. “Or should I say Good evening?”

The realization hits him like a slap to the face. His eyes flicker over to where, unsurprisingly, Jerry is behind the wheel and staring at him through the rear-view mirror. There’s a stupid smirk on his lips and his eyes are lit up in a sardonic sense of amusement. This is funny for him, Charley realizes as dread rises up from his stomach all the way to his heart.

“Where are we?” he manages to ask in a dry, cracking voice.

Jerry just grins a little more. “No where you need to know.”

He doesn’t like that cruel smile. He eases back into the back seat and closes his eyes. This is it. Jerry’s going to kill him. Drain his body of blood and dump his body to the side of the road for the police to find. He can picture the funeral; everyone dressed in black with the scent of lilies in the air. His mother will be there, dressed in mourning alongside his great-Aunt Linda. Maybe his mother’s parents will be there but he doubts it; he’s never met them. Then there will be people from school, kids he didn’t know and those who didn’t know him very well, but would show up as if they truly cared. Oh God, Amy will be devastated; he can picture her now. Beautiful as always but with red-rimmed glassy eyes and a pale face. He even wonders if the casket will be closed. Probably since Jerry won’t make his death slow. He’ll probably mutilate his body till it’s beyond recognition and remember the memory for years to come as he tortures other people.

The thought isn’t heartening at all.

Jerry continues to smirk at him from the mirror. “Relax kid,” if this is his way of trying to be comforting, it isn’t working. The hand that reaches over to pat his knee is so terrifying in and of itself that he flinches away, earning a scream of protest from his body in return. Jerry rolls his eyes. “Jesus kid, I’m not going to hurt you.”

There’s a brief pause. “Too much.”

Well, that’s not disheartening at all and despite the fear, he glares. “Fuck off,” he snaps with his raspy and seriously dehydrated voice. He struggles against the binds, glancing towards the door. His eyes widen in disbelief at the sight. “Child Locks? Seriously?”

“Child Locks,” Jerry confirms with a smug tone of satisfaction and that stupid smirk still on his thin lips, for once not bloodstained. For now, anyway. Jerry’s eyes revert back to the road, speaking much too casually for his liking. “Why don’t you relax? Take a nap or something, hm? We still have a bit of driving to do.”

Instead, he does the exact opposite of what Jerry asks him to do. He thrashes against the seat, wrists tugging away at the material binding his wrists. Jerry sighs, eyeing him from the mirror again and shakes his head. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I didn’t know you cared,” he grumbles towards the vampire behind the wheel, twisting to find something sharp enough to cut the binds. Unfortunately, it’s too dark to see anything and there’s nothing in the seat cushions to cut it with. He’s a caged animal viciously trying to escape and Jerry, the predator, takes it all in with quiet regalement.

He wants to demand the vampire to let him go, but he knows it’s redundant. “When are you going to get bored?” he asks but they both know what he really means. When is Jerry going to let him die, or turn him into one of the children of the night? He feels that he has the right to know considering it’s his life at the end of the day.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jerry says softly with a sneer and cruel twist of his lips. “Killing you would be too...simple.”

“Too simple?” he deadpans, not seeing the point of keeping him alive. “I’m human, you know, I’ll die eventually.”

He’s never considered his mortality a gift before and now, he can’t help but bask in it’s comfort. Not that he _wants_ to die but unless Jerry turns him or somehow he manages to find a way out, he doesn’t see any other options. He’s a realist and considering the events of the past few days, he can’t bring himself to see how this can end positively.

“You’re going to go gray if you keep worrying,” Jerry mocks with a tilt of his head, chuckling slightly. “Just sit back and go to sleep. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

There’s no way he’s going to sleep while a vampire, who’s tried to kill him and his loved ones on numerous occasions, is behind the wheel. Instead, he leans back into the seat while keeping his gaze on the back of Jerry’s head. His wrists burn against the material cutting into his skin, his arms and shoulders aching due to the awkward position. He can’t hide his discomfort; Jerry can see it on his face but he won’t let him have the satisfaction of hearing him. He just glares at him instead, wondering if he could possibly burn a hole through his stupidly thick hair to his skull. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

There’s an awkward silence filling the vehicle. He knows Jerry can smell his apprehension; the sound of his heart slamming violently against his ribcage. He’s on the verge of having a full blown panic attack; the way his heart is beating makes his chest hurt with a strong throbbing sensation. There’s a thin sheet of cold sweat trickling down his face and the back of his neck. He can’t see his hands but he can feel them shaking against the small of his back.

He wants to run since there’s no way he’s going to be able to take Jerry on in a fight. If there weren’t locks against the door handle he’d find a way to open it. The thought of dying while jumping out of a car isn’t pleasant, he assumes it’ll be quick; painless even. Far more preferable than what Jerry’s got planned for him.

“You hungry?”

“What?” he’s still trembling; can barely hear Jerry over the roar of blood thrumming in his ears.

Jerry makes a face, a small hint of annoyance crossing over. “I asked if you’re hungry. Can’t have you dying of starvation, now can we?”

He wants to say yes just to piss him off but the small mention has his stomach growling. Traitor.

He pretends to not notice Jerry’s ever present smirk as the vampire pulls into the parking lot of a diner. The clock on the radio says it’s ten past three in the morning and the sun will rise in about three hours. That’s still not enough time to outrun Jerry. The man clearly knows what he’s thinking and snorts. “If you’re thinking of running, don’t bother. We’re an hour and a half away from our destination.”

That doesn’t tell him where their destination is though.

“Where are we?” he asks again. He hates being kept in the dark, especially when it concerns his life.

“California.”

That’s the only information he get as Jerry parks the car, stepping out. He can hear the heavy footsteps on the concrete as the door to his left opens and the man pops the upper half of his body in. His hand morphs quickly into a claw sharp enough to cut the skin. He frowns at it distastefully which Jerry only grins at. “If you promise to be good, I’ll cut the rope.”

He thinks about that for a minute. While he doesn’t want to be near the vampire, his arms are screaming at him to cut the binding and his logical side wins out. He nods his head with a bitter expression that Jerry only takes more pleasure out of. He cautiously scoots closer to Jerry, who’s clawed finger cuts through the rope like melted butter. He hisses at the feeling of pins and needles that goes through his arms, bringing his wrists closer to himself. They’re pink, rubbed raw from the struggling from earlier but other than that, they’ll be fine.

He steps out of the car, almost jumping when Jerry places a hand on his shoulder. “If you try to run, I’ll catch you,” his voices hisses calmly but warningly in his ear. “So don’t even think about trying to be cute.”

“And if I do?” he snarls back, attempting to shake the hand off his shoulder. “Then what?”

“I think I’ll feed from someone in that building,” a finger points past his shoulder to the inside of the diner, where a waitress is sitting boredly on one of the stools while staring down at her phone. “I think that little redhead could use some fun, don’t you think?”

The girl is about his age, maybe a little older, but the thought of Jerry bringing an outsider into this awful situation is unthinkable. He doesn’t want more blood spilt, especially from someone who has nothing to do with this. “Don’t hurt her!” he hisses but stills in his movement.

“Then don’t test me.”

Jerry gives him a push forward and he stumbles into the diner, the bell on the door signaling to the waitress their arrival. She looks up from her phone at them, squinting her eyes before looking back down at the device again. She sighs and he suddenly feels embarrassed though he can’t understand why. He follows her to a booth in the right aisle where a large paned window stands with a view of the highway. He gets into one of them with Jerry sliding right across, gaze fixed unblinkingly on him.

There’s a moment of silence before the girl clears her throat awkwardly. “What can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll take a beer,” Jerry answers immediately, not even looking at her while her gaze wanders over his muscular form appreciatively. “He’ll have a coke.”

He doesn’t even like coke but knows better than to say anything. He looks at the girl, eyes staring pleadingly into hers, hopeful she’ll get the message that something isn’t right but she’s too busy ogling Jerry.

“I’ll be right back,” she winks towards the vampire before walking away with her hips swaying as she headed towards the pop machine. She glances at the two of them while she puts ice in a cup but her brown eyes are more fixated on Jerry, hopeful that he’ll look her way. She didn’t even ask for the man’s i.d, though he supposed he probably looked old enough not to be asked.

All Jerry does is roll his eyes. “She’s desperate. Reminds me of Doris”

He can’t stop the hysterical sound that breaks past his lips. “Desperate? Don’t talk about Doris; she didn’t deserve any of it!”

“She was a stripper.”

“No she wasn’t!” he refuses to believe that, no matter how many times he’s been told. Doris was nice; she didn’t deserve to die like that. “She wasn’t a stripper.”

Jerry just smiles. “You keep on believing that. Nice of you to respect her memory, but she was desperate. Can’t say she tasted too good though.”

He wants to punch that stupid grin off the vampire’s face at the obvious insult towards the deceased woman. “Shut up, you killed her!”

“Technically _you_ did. But to be fair, you were being a good little boy scout and doing what you thought was right, so I’ll give you that,” Jerry leans comfortably back in his seat, amusement flickering in his cold dark eyes. “She wanted to die, though.”

“What?”

Before Jerry can even answer that, the waitress returns with a cold beer in one hand and a coke in the other. She sets them down carefully, standing as close as she can to Jerry as she pulls a pen and notepad out from her apron pocket. “What can I get you to eat?” she asks, but it’s more directed to Jerry than to him. “Everything here is pretty decent.”

When Jerry nudges him slightly under the table; a small kick to his shin that makes him jump. “Oh, um, I’ll have a cheese burger. With no onions and extra pickles.”

She writes it down without even acknowledging he said anything and gives a sickeningly sweet smile towards Jerry. “And what can I get you?”

“I’m fine,” Jerry looks to her for the first time that morning. His smile lacks any sincerity or feeling. “Think you could hurry up with that food? We’re kind of in a hurry.”

She frowns and steps back slightly with obvious disappointment and annoyance. “Sure,” she turns on her heel, much less enthusiastic than she’d been earlier.

Jerry rolls his eyes for the third or fourth time since they’d been talking. “See? Desperate. Still bet there’s a line of guys waiting to pluck that though,” Jerry glances to where she’s leaning against a counter. “She’s got a nice ass, round and firm. Just like Amy’s, don’t you think?”

He doesn’t say anything but sends a small prayer to whoever was up there for the girl’s safety. Even if she was being a little rude, she doesn’t deserve to possibly be molested by a vampire. He also sends a prayer up for Amy’s safety.

“What did you mean?” his voice breaks the small silence and he won’t meet Jerry’s face, pretending not to notice the quirk of his eyebrows. “That Doris wanted to die?”

Jerry just gives a small shrug of his shoulders casually, fingers wrapping around the beer to bring it to his lips. He takes a long swig, setting it back down and wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He’s quiet once more but gears in his mind are working a mile a minute. “All you humans want to,” the vampire finally answers, softly but still loud enough for him to hear. “Every single one of you. You’re all the same in that aspect. In death, there are no worries. No problems. You can just shove all your burdens on the people you supposedly care about and forget about everything. It’s actually kind of endearing, actually. You humans are just so... fragile.”

“Doris had a life,” he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, anything to avoid Jerry’s gaze. “She didn’t want to die; I don’t believe you.”

Jerry snorts. “Of course you don’t, you’ve lived the perfect white-picket fence life,” the vampire cocks his head mockingly. “Minus the whole daddy in the picture part. You know, I could have been your daddy.”

His head snaps up to glare at him, which only earns a chuckle from the damn creature. “What? There’s no way my mom would have gone for something like you!”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Jerry continued to laugh with dark mirth, cruel intent in his voice as he toyed with him. “Your mom’s desperate too. After a few dates, I think I could have gotten past her barriers and into her bed. Into your home. I told you, you both put off a scent of neglect that’s really hard not to ignore. Your mom’s had it rough, she could use a man to depend on. I wouldn't have minded at all.”

“Shut up! Don’t talk about my mom like that!” the very thought of his mother and Jerry together is enough to make him sick. His hands curl into fists under the table and Jerry’s mouth curls into another damned smirk as he probably smells his anger and irritation growing. “She wouldn’t have gone out with you anyway; I heard her say so!”

“Eh, I probably could have gotten her anyway,” Jerry shrugs nonchalantly, taking a steady sip of his beer. “Her scent of neglect is pretty strong; yours too. You should probably drink that,” he indicates his head towards the unacknowledged glass of coke sitting next to his left hand. “Pretty rude to waste.”

“Why do you care,” he grumbles but takes his straw out from the wrapper and puts it in the glass. He takes a long sip out of the drink, barely even noticing the taste. He’s been so thirsty and it’s refreshing against his throat. He would have preferred water but this was close enough. He puts the half emptied glass down, wiping his mouth. “You’re probably going to drink from her and leave her body in some alley.”

Jerry grins wryly. “Why would I do that when you’re sitting here tantalizing me with your scent.”

His heart drops into his stomach and once more, he feels nauseous. He wishes he had a stake; even a vial of holy water would be good right about now but alas, he has nothing. He immediately regrets not taking something from Peter Vincent’s penthouse. Then he realizes Jerry would have taken it away after he knocked him out. He doesn’t even need to check himself, knowing full well the vampire searched him while he was unconscious.

“What’s wrong guy? I’m not going to drain you dry if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jerry chuckles. “Well, I’ll try not to. No promises.”

“Gee, how reassuring,” he says dryly. “If you're going to kill me, why not do it now?”

“I already told you, I’m not going to kill you.”

“How thoughtful of you,” he takes small satisfaction as the smirk fades from Jerry’s face. Yet he quickly begins to rethink that statement at the unamused irritation radiating from the vampire. His mouth, however, seems to have a different idea. “I so look forward to our time together. Really, I just cannot wait to be tortured to death.”

Jerry leans forward, jaw clenching as if he’s trying to hold himself in check. “You’re being cute,” he says lowly, the barest hint of a growl present. His jaw unclenches and he sighs, closing his eyes briefly before that damned smile returns. “Don’t you remember what I said about that?”

All sense of satisfaction floods out of his body, immediately setting him on edge as he hears clattering noise from the kitchen. The redheaded girl steps out, saying something unpleasant to someone in the back and steps over to their table, his plate of food held carefully in her arms. “Here you go,” she sets it on the table, not bothering to give Jerry any attention. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

She’s about to leave when Jerry clears his throat, eyeing her appreciatively. “Hey there, sweetheart,” his voice is low, husky, and she obviously likes it. She turns her focus to Jerry attentively, hand coming up to twiddle with her red curls. Jerry indicates towards his now empty beer. “Think you could get me another? I’d really appreciate that.”

“No problem,” she smiles sweetly, leaning over the table to grab to bottle and give the vampire a good view of the top of her chest. She glances her shoulder over at him. “I’ll be right back.”

He glares at Jerry. “Leave her alone,” he snaps, taking Jerry’s focus from the girl’s ass to his face. “I won’t be cute or whatever it is you said. Just don’t...don’t hurt her.”

“I hardly think a little flirting is going to hurt anyone,” Jerry snorts as he steals a french fry from his plate, popping it into his mouth. “But remember guy, one wrong move and red here will end up in an alley,” he tilts his head thoughtfully. “Of course I could take her with us, feed off her for a few days and let you listen to her screams. She won’t last long.”

He opens his mouth to reply but Jerry sighs once more, as if he’s the one that’s being a pain in the ass. “Eat up, kid,” he nods towards the plate; the uneaten cheeseburger just sitting there on his plate. His stomach growls, demanding sustenance but he can’t even think of eating right now. “Blood tastes better when they’re more iron in it, you know.”

No, he didn’t know and quite frankly he doesn’t want to know. It doesn't encourage him to eat the food and he just looks from it to Jerry. Jerry just lifts his arm, allowing his chin to rest casually under his fist. “I bet red’ll taste fairly decent,” his eyes gleam cruelly. “Or I could go hunt Amy down. She smelled really good too; really desperate for attention if you know what I mean. I could bite her, split one of my own veins open and let her drink from me. The process will be painful but I’m sure she’d make a wonderful child.”

“Fine!” he grabs the burger, bringing it to his mouth and taking a bite. The second he swallowed, he didn’t realize how hungry he actually was and took another large bite. Jerry just smiles.

“Good boy.”

The waitress returns back with his beer, giving him another sickeningly sweet smile. “Anything else you need?”

All Jerry does is glance to her. “No.”

She leaves, looking fairly confused and irritated at all the mixed signals but heads back to the kitchen. A man pokes his head out, glancing at them curiously before his eyes narrow suspiciously. Jerry scowls. “Hurry up,” he nods towards the almost finished burger. “Someone back there is getting nosey. And you know what happens to people who get nosey when around me.”

He’s mostly full now, poking at the slightly undercooked french fries with disdain. Jerry takes a sip of his new beer, chugging it quickly and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It’s an ugly reminder of how many times he’s seen the man do that with blood on his mouth and he’s suddenly nauseous once more. “I’m done,” he pushes the plate away.

He stands up the second Jerry does, who slaps a 20 dollar bill down on the table on their check, pushing him out the door that jingled as they left. There’s a hand on the back of his neck, warning him that if he runs, he won’t get very far. The waitress watches them as they leave, he can see her and the other man through the side mirror of Jerry’s more than likely stolen car. While the redhead girl looks irritated, there’s an underlying level of concern as well and he looks back at her, hoping his expression gives her a hint that something isn’t right.

“In you go,” Jerry opens the car door, pushing him lightly inside. He quickly steps into the driver’s side, giving a smirk as he looks towards the seat belt. “Remember, seat belts keep people safe.”

“Fuck you,” he grumbles but puts the thing on anyway.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

He pales considerably as Jerry cackles cruelly, turning the engine on and pulling out of the diner’s parking lot, into the darkened highway and towards and unknown, yet unpleasant, future.

~

He didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep until the car abruptly comes to a stop, jostling him forward.

His forehead hit the back of the passenger seat and let out a small groan of pain. It didn’t hurt too bad but he didn’t consider it the greatest way of waking up. The side door is opened and there’s a pair of hands grabbing at his body. He’s pulled against Jerry’s chest, one arm hooked under his knees and the other supporting his back. Like a bride being carried by her groom. Or in his case, a sacrifice to the altar of some cruel god.

A lamb off to the slaughterhouse, he thinks and instantly wishes he hadn’t of eaten earlier. Jerry’s cold, reminding him vaguely of a walking corpse. His head is resting soundly against his chest, where the heart should be beating but he hears nothing.

He decides to cut himself a break for once as his body begins to tremble against his will. He knows Jerry can hear the rising spike of his heartbeat. Jerry just hums a little song under his breath; not one he recognizes by any means. It almost reminds him of a lullaby reminding him of his younger years when his mother would sometimes sing him little songs to help him go to sleep. If this is Jerry’s method of doing the exact opposite, it’s working. Damn him.

It’s not light out yet, but it’s not as dark as it was before and he reckoned they had an hour or less before the sun rose. He’s growing restless and restless by the second, trembling harder and struggling to get out of Jerry’s hold. The vampire’s grip only tightens, restricting the movement of his legs and looks down at his face. He doesn’t say anything but he can see what he’s thinking. This all ironically hilarious to him; he knows there’s no way to get out of this.

That doesn’t mean he’s not going to try though.

The house is mediterranean style, with light brown coating and two garages that are dark wood. The dark brown clay tiles are in perfect alignment and condition, as is the rest of the house. He knows his mother would love to sell a house like this; to some rich family. It seems a little out of Jerry’s price range and definitely not his style. It’s as if Jerry knows what he’s thinking and he gives a chuckle that resonates through his chest. “It’s a gift,” the man alludes, not saying who or better yet, _what_ from. Black window blinds are on every window and he imagines there are heavy dark curtains on the inside.

He’s so screwed.

“Who’d give you a gift?” he mutters drowsily and he doesn’t even care at this point; he’s exhausted both physically and emotionally.

Jerry speaks as though he didn’t hear that question, proceeding to unlock the door with his left hand. He nudges the door open with his foot, footsteps echoing in the silence as he walks in and promptly shuts the door. Through his tired gaze, he spots a huge tapestry on one of the walls, the same insignia he'd seen on Jerry's wall; the one he'd taken a picture of and sent it to Peter Vincent. He still has no idea what it is exactly, though he knows it pertains to Jerry's vampire kind and though he's too tired to think too much now, he wonders vaguely if it also has something to do with some vampire hierarchy. Or a possible allusion to other kinds of vampires. The thought is not comforting.

Jerry pretty much drops him to the floor, Charley barely catching his balance before a cold hand grabs his upper arm. He digs his heels into the floor, making it as difficult as he possibly can for Jerry to take him to wherever he’s leading him to. The vampire’s having to drag him across the floor, yanking his arm painfully as he attempts to pull away. “Stubborn brat,” he hears the vampire mutter and he suddenly finds himself flipped over the man’s shoulder unceremoniously. “I think I won this little game of ours, Charley boy.”

Jerry walks into a study, one hand gripping his lower back tightly as he pushes against the edge of a bookcase. There’s a door behind it with a lock, Jerry easily turning the dial before it clicks open and the door is pulled open. Jerry carries him into an artificially lit room that has white walls and a white floor, painfully reminding him of the cells in the back of Jerry’s old home, where Doris had been held captive. How many others have died down in this room? He swears he sees blood staining one of the walls but he doesn’t ask. He’s not sure he wants to know.

There’s a small archway leading into a bathroom, so he assumes Jerry keeps people down here for long periods of time. A mattress that’s surprisingly clean is shoved against one wall and he’s tossed down on it quite rudely. Jerry kneels down in front of him, his smile anything but reassuring. “Hey Charley,” his voice is soft with a calm inflection that immediately sets him on edge. He leans up on his elbows, body tensing up as Jerry places a hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna need something from you. Since I bought you dinner, it’s only common courtesy you return the favor.”

“No,” he shakes his head, knowing exactly what Jerry wants. The hand tightens on his shoulder painfully and he allows the terrified whimper to escape past his lips. Jerry’s coming even closer to him, spreading his legs easily to allow him more access. His other hand is gripping his other wrist rather tightly. He shakes his head. “No! Stay away from me!”

“It won’t hurt too much,” Jerry’s attempt at coaxing him is not helping at all, his body only continues to tremble out of fear. Jerry sneers. “Where’s all that bravado from earlier, Charley?”

He’s pushed back against the mattress and his heart only picks up pace as Jerry’s whole body is pressed up against his. He can’t move; can’t even remember to breathe properly. There are tears stinging at his eyes his though he holds them back he best he can. He won’t give Jerry the satisfaction of seeing him cry. He struggles the best he can against him, trying to get his neck as far away from the vampire as he can since he can’t move the rest of his body.

Jerry tightens the pressure on his wrist and he gasps at the sudden pain. It’s not broken; he doesn’t think it is but it provides the right distraction. At the flare of pain he stops struggling and there’s the sharp press of fangs against his neck. It stings and he gasps at the sucking sounds right next to his ear. It’s like he’s been immobilized, paralyzed from the neck down as blood quickly leaves his body. He can’t even feel the pulsing throb of his wrist; he can’t feel anything at all.

“God, you taste so good,” Jerry groans against his neck, burying his fangs even deeper. He winces as a tongue sweeps over the wound. The fangs retract from his neck but Jerry continues to lick up the excess blood. The cold wetness of the vampire’s saliva is enough to make him shiver and he takes that as a sign of his senses returning. Jerry purrs against his ear. “Best I’ve had in four hundred years, Charley.”

The pressure on his body is released and Jerry looms over him like a threatening shadow. The sight of his own blood staining Jerry’s mouth is bringing the nausea back once more. “It’s going to be fun breaking you,” is the last thing he hears before he passes out against the mattress.

~

He still hasn't quite decided if he likes being back in Los Angeles.

Jerry sighs to himself, rubbing an apple on his t-shirt to clean it before taking a large bite out of the fruit. He should be resting; he hasn’t done so for almost two days but he’s too excited to even get a wink of sleep. The house is darkened enough for him to walk freely around, the blinds and heavy curtains not allowing an harmful patches of cursed sunlight in. It’s been about ten years since he’s been in this house, courtesy of his maker, whom he hasn’t visited for almost fifteen years.

She wasn’t happy about getting a phone call, especially since he’s been quite neglectful to keep in touch. He’s lucky she even decided to give him this house; his maker hasn’t been known for being forgiving. Though being her child has some advantages, he supposes. Last time he saw her was when he helped her take down the previous ruler of their species and crowned her the queen.

It’s way past overdue that he owes her a visit. He’ll make sure to do that in the coming days but right now, his mind is occupied on other things.

Charley. The very name makes the back of his lips curl into an ugly sneer. He should have killed the boy the second he started getting nosey; should have turned him at the very least. He’s not one built for regret but this whole situation has been entirely inconvenient. This boy...this stupid wannabe hunter has managed to throw a wrench in his plans more times than once. He should have dealt with him like he dealt with Edward and Adam; sooner rather than later. This is one error he will not make again.

His other times at creating newborns hadn’t been entirely successful. Their numbers had been dwindling for years while the other species were flourishing. His children had either deserted him out of anger (though their connection as master-child would always let him know where they were), and some had either intentionally or unintentionally met their demises at the hands of the sun. A few had even been killed by hunters.

He clenches the apple in his hand tightly as he remembers the children he had in Ojai. He’d run afoul of a witch, kidnapping her and attempting to turn her when he realized too late that she had magic. She didn’t kill him, no, she’d done something much worse. She killed all the children he’d turned and he barely escaped his house when she blew it up. Witches were just as annoying as werewolves; their immunity to the vampire gift makes them both an inconvenience and a threat.

Though it hasn’t all been bad; there’s been a few children who’ve made him proud. He thinks fondly of one of his children he’d turned seventeen years ago, who’d helped him take down the previous leader out of familial loyalty and companionship. He’d have to pay his favorite daughter a visit too.

Yet all of these things can wait. His maker is not going to be pleased that a pathetic human had nearly cost him his life. Makers, after all, are extremely protective of their children; their protegees. She might even come here herself; to torture and eventually kill Charley in ways that even he doesn’t use because they’re...well, a bit medieval in practice. It would be amusing, but Charley is his. He’s going to make sure the boy pays for the trouble he’s caused him. He won’t kill him; no, that wouldn’t be satisfying at all.

He’s going to turn Charley. Soon, he hopes, because if he doesn’t his maker will probably kill the teen and that wouldn’t be any fun at all.

He’s had more than enough sustenance of blood to last him for two days but his gums ache anyway. The teen’s blood, he hadn’t tasted anything like it. Blood’s warm in general; always tastes better with fear and desire, but this is different. Vampires are cold (being technically dead does that), but there’s a tingling sensation against his skin. He can’t describe this feeling; he hasn’t felt it for over four hundred years, but he feels warm. Charley’s blood, he hasn’t tasted anything that has ever made him feel like this. He doesn’t know any other way to describe it, but as he savors the memory, he believes he’s tasted sunshine again for the first time in four hundred years.

“So you’re not just a pretty face,” he says with mirth to no one. Charley still hasn’t woken up but he knows he’s not dead. He can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It brings cruel glee to him and a crooked smile. “I wonder what kind of secrets are running through your veins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Charley is screwed.  
> Please comment and bookmark! Comments make my day, so I hope to hear from you!


	3. What are you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerry attempts to turn Charley. Things don't go quite as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, midterms are done (thank goodness) so I'm really happy to be giving you this chapter. Enjoy!

He had hoped this was all a really bad dream. That when he woke up, he would be back in his room and would wake up thinking this was all a really bad, really weird, dream.

He was, however, not that fortunate.

There’s pain as he wakes up, his head pounding and his body feeling as though he’s had a truck run over him. For a moment, he doesn’t recognize where he is until the memory comes flooding back. Right, he’s been kidnapped. Jerry kidnapped him from the club and is stashing him here in this really nice house. Well, in a secret room where no one will find his corpse once Jerry’s done with him. That’s a big _when_ and not _if_ because he knows that Jerry’s more than likely going to kill him. Despite what the vampire said; he doesn’t actually believe him.

He breathes shakily, hands trembling as he sits up on the soft mattress. He feels sick, though not enough to go running to the toilet. No doubt Jerry knows he’s awake by now and if he had his phone, he would check the time but the device is no longer on him. Jerry must have confiscated it a while ago; destroyed it even. The thought doesn’t help him one bit but he can’t start freaking out now.

He draws his knees up and wraps his arms around them, curling into a sort of ball. The room is chilled but not enough to make him feel too cold. He wonders how many people have been down here; have met their demise in this chilly hell hole. He’s not sure if the stain on the wall at one end of the room is blood or not, but he’s convinced himself that he doesn't want to know quite yet. It doesn’t look like Jerry’s been here that often, so the house must belong to someone else. Someone Jerry knows quite well.

The thought of Jerry having friends causes a sound, a hysterical laugh, to burst past his lips. It’s an absurd idea but he can’t quite believe that it’s not entirely untrue.

He attempts to move and instantly falls back down on the mattress. Jerry’s taken a lot of blood; so much so that his body hasn’t recovered quite yet and it’s left him feeling weaker than usual. He scowls, irritation and anger building up. He highly doubts the vampire needed his blood; he just wants to make sure that he’s weak enough so he won’t be able to escape.

It makes him more determined than ever; pushing his body to his hands and knees. He pauses to allow his body enough time to get used to the position before slowly drawing himself to his feet. His vision is hazy, spinning for a few minutes that makes him have to lean on the wall for support, eyes closed. It takes a few moments of steady breathing to finally get his vision back to normal; to get rid of this awful sense of vertigo. Jerry’s bound to know he’s awake by now, but whether or not he comes down or not, is the bigger question.

He feels his body tense in anticipation. He’s going to try to run, even if it might seem futile at this point. When he ends up dying here (and again, that’s when and not if), he can at least die knowing that he tried to escape. That he didn’t just let Jerry take his life so easily; that he made it sort of challenging. He can settle knowing that he didn’t die a coward. Unlike some people…

His ears pick up movement and his eyes immediately pivot to the door/book case thing. The door clicks open, Jerry stepping into the room with what appears to be a sandwich and a juice box that vaguely resembles the ones he used to drink as a kid. The site, on any occasion that could be considered normal, would make him laugh. Jerry just sets the food down on the table pushed against the wall. “Thought you might be hungry,” he says, as if he really cared about his well being. They both know he’s just keeping him alive at this point for his own entertainment. “It’s been a day; you should eat.”

The door is left wide open and he springs forward. Jerry’s not expecting it and he savors briefly the momentary flash of surprise that crosses his face. He takes that opportunity and runs past the door as quickly as he can. He can remember where the front door is; it’s not hard to find and pulls at the handle.  Nothing happens and he curses himself inwardly for thinking that Jerry didn’t anticipate this happening. Of course he’d lock it from the inside as well. He bangs on the door, shoving his body against it to see if he could get it to move.

“You done yet?” a voice asks with amusement and he turns to see Jerry casually leaning against the wall leading into the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t allow him to come up with a snarky reply and he’s suddenly grabbed none too gently by the arm. He’s hauled back into the room, Jerry throwing him against the wall so hard that when he falls to the ground, he’s still seeing stars dancing around the corners of his eye. Jerry leans down to his level, cool as a cucumber, and leans in closer. He’s crowding him way too close for comfort and his heart rate spikes instantly. The vampire grins, inching closer and fucking purrs. “That was kind of stupid, Charley.”

“Fuck you!” he growls back, as Jerry’s face is nuzzling the spot where he bit him hours before. “Let me go!”

“Well now you’re just being demanding,” Jerry laughs, the sound resonating through his body. His eyes are met with dark calm ones that are so good at hiding the thoughts going on in his head. “I don’t think you're in any position to be making demands of me. Though the word please does go a long way.”

He’s not quite sure if it’s a good idea, but his hand reaches up to strike Jerry across the face. It stuns Jerry and it did manage to leave a mark, though it’s quickly fading away and Jerry’s now looking at him like he’s really _irritated_ now. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t a good idea. Right now, he doesn’t care. He feels a surge of pride that he actually got a hit in; that he’s managed to surprise Jerry twice now in one day.

Jerry brings a hand to his cheek, flexing his jaw a little as though his slap managed to actually hurt him. “That wasn’t very nice, Charley,” his voice is so low he can barely hear him but it manages to send of chill of fear down his spine and instant sense of dread. “That wasn’t very nice at all.”

“No shit Sherlock.”

He instantly regrets that but it’s too late to take it back now. He didn’t even notice the hand on his right leg until there’s pressure and snapping sound that sends a horrendous amount of pain he’s never experienced before in his short life. He screams raggedly, the blood instantly leaving his face as Jerry pulls back with an expression he’s seen on his mother at times. One of exasperation and disappointment. His blood boils over with anger.

“I tried to be nice; I even brought you lunch,” Jerry sighs, as if he’s the one who’s been irritating. His cold hand runs through his hair, threading through his messy locks in a reminiscently comforting manner. Except it only made him more tense, the pain in his leg throbbing uncontrollably that tears welled up and out of his eyes, down his cheeks before he could even stop them. He’s begun to hyperventilate and Jerry only comes closer, trying to bring him towards him while he attempts to move away. The hand stroking his hair and face is not helping matters at all. “You’re not a very good guest.”

He’s surprised he can even speak through all this pain. “Not like I had any choice,” he can’t help the trepidation in his voice, but he gives himself a pass. This time, anyway. “What’s the point of all this! Just let me go!”

He isn’t prepared when Jerry’s hands grab his head, slamming it back so hard against the wall he sees stars once more. “Listen here, Charley,” while his voice is soft, it hardly covers up the slowly building anger. “I _own_ you. You have no right to be making any demands especially since I’ve been merciful enough to spare your pathetic excuse for a life. I could have killed your mother; taken precious Amy and give her all the attention she could ever want. But I didn’t. And you know why?”

He should have kept his mouth shut but he speaks before he can even think properly. “Because you’re a sick bastard.”

His head whips to the side with a cracking sound ringing in the air. Jerry struck him across the face, another gasp of pain sounding out and a hot burning sensation resonating against his right cheek. Jerry cups his face gently, knowing it’s only making him more agitated. “Because of you. If you had minded your own business, none of this would have ever happened. Your house would still be standing; you and your mother safe. This is all your fault,” Jerry tilts his head thoughtfully. “Well, and Ed and Adam’s too, but you, Charley, you’ve been more troublesome than your little friends. I don’t think I can recall another human that’s lasted against me for this long. Well, aside from Peter.”

“You killed his parents!”

“They were hunters; I’m a vampire, that’s how it works, Charley. You don’t fight the nature of things and win. Did he even tell you they killed my children?” at the blank look on his face, Jerry sighs and shakes his head. “Staked them while they were sleeping; poor things were too young to defend themselves. So naturally, I took it personally. You must know how protective parents are towards their children, hm?”

He instantly thinks of a trip to the park years ago, where he’d been tying his shoes while sitting on the park bench when a man came over to sit next to him. He seemed like a nice man but he knew as a young child he shouldn’t talk to strangers but there was something...not quite right about the man. He can’t remember what it was exactly but when his mother rushed over, she looked down right dangerous. “You still killed his parents,” he shakes the memory away, glaring daggers at the vampire. “He was just a kid! You traumatized him for life!”

“He’s still alive, isn’t he?” Jerry sneers back at him. “I was kind enough to do that. And what does he do? Follows in their footsteps. Look how that turned out for him.”

Fingers trail down his face to the bite wound still present on his neck. Jerry presses two fingers down and he immediately lets out small disgruntled sound of pain. “It’s a gift, truly,” his voice is so close to his ear and when he tries to pull away, the other hand is keeping his jaw in place. “And who else to give it to than none other than the one who’s comes the closest to killing me? You know, Peter’s parents came close but they missed the heart. Should have taken better notes in anatomy,” Jerry smiles cruelly. “You’re a lucky boy, Charley. I could have just killed you and everyone else you claim to care about, but like I said, I’m merciful. Merciful enough to rid you of this temporal life and into one of eternity.”

He squirms against the vampire the best he can without disturbing his leg too much with limiting successu. He hopes his gaze burns right through Jerry, but those dark eyes only stare into his like they’re going to consume him. Literally. “I’ll never be one of you!” he snaps angrily. “I’d rather die!”

“I’ve heard it’s quite painful to die by sunlight,” Jerry says as though he’s ignoring that outburst, speaking thoughtfully with that stupid tilt of his head; mocking him. “Of course, it’s not as though anyone’s ever come back to speak of it,” he smiles a mean, nasty little smile that is not reassuring in the slightest. “And do you really think I’d let you die so easily?”

“If only,” he mutters and he really shouldn’t be speaking anymore, or so his brain screams at him. He’s never quite really known when it was time to shut up. “If I did turn into what you are, what makes you think I’ll stay?”

He watches with glee as the smile on Jerry’s face slowly falls away. Jerry steps back from him and the glee is slowly fading away at the realization that he has no idea what is going on in that head of his. He kneels down once more and it’s too late for his mind to suddenly click at the way the damn vampire has been eyeing his leg. He puts pressure down on it and he can’t stop the pained cry that breaks out.

“You really don’t know when to quit,” Jerry sounds incredibly nonplussed by this, with a casual smile that doesn’t fit the situation at all. There’s a steady hand on his broken leg, pressure slowly being applied to the agonized nerves and makes him thrash violently against the grip. It’s only fueling Jerry’s amusement; he knows this but by God he wants the pain to stop. That stupid cruel smile is still on his face; eyes burning into his and for a moment, he feels as though he’s looking into hell. “It’s cute, really. Your stupid sense of bravery is endearing,” his hand runs up and down his broken leg and he can’t help the rise of fear at the prospect of Jerry adding more pressure to the wound again. Those damned eyes never leave his for a moment. “But you should get it through your thick skull that _you belong to me_. And once I turn you, our bond as maker and child well, let’s just say you won’t be getting rid of me any time soon.”

He wants to pass out as cold sweat runs down his body, his vision getting hazier and hazier by the second. He can’t exactly make out Jerry’s face but he knows the vampire is still sneering down at him. His face is the last thing he can sort of see before he passes out.

~

For a moment, he thinks he’s dead.

He finds himself lying in a bed of soft grass, eyes flickering open to take in the world around. He can’t see the sky; all he can see are what he believes are trees. Cypress, he believes and he’s tempted to curse his inner geek for knowing that. It’s nice, he supposes; peaceful even except for the pulsating throbbing pain in his right leg. He attempts to stand, but quickly falls down with a gasp of pain that pales his face considerably.

He’s never really imagined what heaven could possibly look like though as he looks around at his surroundings, he can’t say he’s too impressed. It’s not that it’s ugly or anything of that sort, it just seems very...simple.

It’s more misty than foggy and the air is warm with the smell of moisture. There’s water all around him, a natural spring surrounded by dense thick trees. It’s nicer than the basement he’s being kept in, so he supposes it could be considered an upgrade. He frowns despite the peaceful aura emanating from the water. He doesn’t recall dying though how would he know? It’s not like he’s died before and if this is the after life, well, maybe it isn’t so bad. He can’t see Jerry so that’s another bonus.

A heaviness fills his chest. If he’s dead, then his mom is all alone now. It’s always been the two of them against the world. With the help of Aunt Linda, she pretty much raised him without any other assistance. He can remember a little bit the first apartment they lived in; how she worked all the time to support the two of them. He doesn’t know of anyone else who’s worked as hard as his mother did to support the two of them. Now he’s more than likely dead and all her hard work has been for nothing.

“You’re not dead.”

There’s a voice that breaks through the silence. He props himself up, doing his best not to move his leg. The mist swarms around but he can make out the image of a figure moving towards him. He feels frozen in place and as he attempts to move, he can’t. It’s like he’s being held down by a strong force, a heavy wave of something he can’t describe washing over him. He wants to get away from whatever’s holding him down but he can’t find anything threatening. There’s an overwhelming feeling of calm in the air, as though whoever is doing this is not out to hurt him. Or so he hopes; this wouldn’t be the first time he’s been wrong.

“Hello there,” the figure’s in front of him now and he’s shocked to say the least. He was expecting some hideous creature (aka Jerry) but not a beautiful girl. He’s seen beautiful girls, namely his mother and Amy, but this beauty makes him want to cry. He can’t understand why but he can’t tear his eyes away from her. If this girl existed in the real world, she would hit everyone’s self esteem. She’d be hated and loved by all; everyone single person she meets wrapped around her finger. Her warm diamond blue eyes smile at him before moving down to his right leg, where a pale delicate hand rests on it gently. “Does this hurt?”

“Y...yeah.”

Her hand begins to glow a soft silver, applying slight pressure on the bone. He gasps as a tingling sensation grows and the pain slowly recedes away. She smiles breezily at him, the hand retreating from his leg and up to push a curtain of her hair back. It’s very long, he notes, reaching to the back of her thighs. He expected it to be somewhat messy and unkempt but it’s beautiful. A soft silvery blonde that flows gently behind her even though there’s no wind. “Better?” she asks kindly, hands now resting in her lap as she kneels.

“Yeah,” he can sit up a bit easier now and there’s no pain anymore. He can’t help but stare at her and she only smiles back pleasantly. He flushes in spite of himself, feeling somewhat guilty for looking too long. If Amy were here, she’d get upset. For good reason, of course. He clears his throat, tearing his gaze away from hers. “So, um, thanks and everything but who are you?”

“Be patient,” she laughs a little and gives him a little wink that only makes him flush harder. “All in due time. I have something for you.”

“What?”

She reaches for his right hand, holding it gently in her own. Her skin is soft, very smooth he notes. Unlike Jerry, whose hands are cold and rather brutal, hers are warm and while she holds his own hand, he can feel how careful she’s being. His right hand is palm side up, with her forefinger tracing into his skin so lightly it tickles. Her voice is as soft as her skin, speaking in a language he doesn’t understand. _“_ _Jedan je mladić išao kroz šumu s pištoljem držao u rukama. Jedan je mladić išao kroz šumu odjeven u kaput od zelena. Njegova ljubav ima kosu poput srebra i očima led plava sjaj. Ona je omotala u ljepoti; tako mlada i tako spokojan. On je rekao da djevojka srce mi smo zarobljeni. Oh, ja bih biti tvoj mladoženja. Ona je rekla da će ga oženiti nikada, ne u blizini, niti sada, niti uskoro.”_

It must be slavic, he thinks, but he doesn’t really know. He only knows English and bits of Spanish that is so atrocious sounding he doesn’t dare speak it. There’s a tingling feeling his hand, but it’s not painful. It only reminds him of softer version of pins and needles. She releases his hand and he looks down at it with narrowed befuddled eyes. It’s a circle glowing like molten gold, with two loops coming together on the inside to form a small circle on the middle of his palm. It glows brightly, causing his eyes to sting  a little. He reverts his gaze to hers instead, trying not to sound panicked. “What is this?” he asks, making a great show of scooting away from her. “What the hell did you do to me?”

“There’s no need to panic, calm down,” she chides him gently, looking at him with a fondness he’s only seen before in his mother. His mind brings up a memory when he was little, when she told him not to stand over the stove while she was cooking; that it would burn him but he ignored her and did it anyway. He ended up having a small bit of grease pop in his face and when he cried, she had scolded him in the same manner this woman is doing now. She takes his hand again, watching as the glow dies down and fades. “This will guide you along the path that you must go.”

“What path?”

There’s a hand pressed against his cheek, immediately silencing him from asking anything more. “No more questions; our time here is limited,” she glances over her shoulder as if expecting something to jump out of the mist or the water, but there’s nothing. She turns back to him with that beautiful yet sorrowful smile. “You’ll know when to use it, Charley.”

He blinks slowly at her. “How do you know my name?”

She laughs quietly and the hand strokes his cheek comfortingly, her gaze holding no malice or ill intent. “I’ve watched over you for years, waiting for the right moment to meet you,” she sighs at the slightly disturbed look on his face. “This must all seem very strange; believe me but be careful. Not everyone you meet will be an ally.”

He snorts. “Like Jerry?”

He can see her trying to hold in her amusement as she shakes her head and he has the sudden urge to reach and feel her hair. She removes her hand from his face, placing them neatly back in her lap. “Not everyone is as...bad as they seem,” it’s like she’s trying to convince herself of that, for she frowns quite considerably.

He shakes his head, turning it to glance over at the steady flow of water falling down over some rocks. “Real reassuring...what’s your-” he’s cut off when he realizes she’s no longer there. There’s nothing but mist in the place where she stood. The mist around him only seems to grow thicker and the sounds of water die away into nothing. He can’t see anything in front of him; not even his own hands as his vision is suddenly stripped away…

He wakes up then, smacking his head against the wall with a pained groan. There’s a crick in his neck, he realizes, from sitting propped up against the wall for so long. How long had he been asleep anyway? He knows he passed out after his and Jerry’s...spat but that could have been minutes; even hours ago. He rubs the back of his neck in order to ease the strained muscles that are screaming accusations at him for sleeping in such an uncomfortable position.

Not like he had a choice in the matter, he thinks as he rolls his eyes.

He’s beginning to think it was all some weird lucid dream brought on pain. Until it suddenly hits him that there is no pain in his leg. He looks down, nearly doing a double take at how normal it looks. Earlier it had been broken; the leg being snapped the wrong way and throbbing with a pain he’s never experienced  before. Now it’s gloating up at him as though it was never broken in the first place.

Had it not been a dream then? Who was that woman? He feels as though he’s seen her before, a name and face lost in his memories now and he can't focus enough to try and bring himself to think about it. There’s a growling in his stomach that demands him to go get food and he eyes the sandwich and juice still on the table. He tentatively brings himself to stand, a part of him still believing that his leg’s broken.

It’s not, though. As he slowly adds pressure on it in order to stand, there’s not even a small ounce of pain. He takes a step forward, just to be sure and smiles widely at how normal it feels. He quickly strides over to where the food is; not even realizing how hungry he is until he bites into the slightly dry food.

He’s partially done with the sandwich when the door opens. He freezes on the spot, jaw still chewing away at the food before swallowing tightly. He turns to meet Jerry’s gaze, a small wave of satisfaction washing over him at the completely surprised look on the vampire’s face. He’s holding material to be used as a splint for his leg, not that it’s needed now for obvious reasons.

Jerry’s eyes move from him to his leg then back to him in a slow motion. “Your leg,” his voice is so soft that he almost didn’t hear him. “Your leg was broken.”

“Uhm,” is the best he can come up with on the spot; no possible way he can explain his dream without making it sound like he made it up. “It’s not now?” he offers weakly.

“Legs don’t heal themselves that fast,” Jerry steps closer to him, a combination of danger and steady calmness radiating from him. “What are you?”

“What?” he isn’t expecting that question. And he definitely doesn’t quite know what exactly Jerry means by it. “I’m human, you already know that.”

“No,” Jerry snarls at him, and once more, he’s quickly pinned against the wall. “You’re not. Your blood is different. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

“Great,” he’s tempted to bang his head on the wall again just for the spite of it. After the day he’s had, he’s sure he deserves it. Is this some punishment from some angry God? That he’s forced to be at the mercy of some sadistic vampire? He wants to regret ever getting involved in this, but his stupid moral conscious is going on about how Jerry would have wiped out the entire neighborhood. And even still, he’d probably get in this situation anyhow. “Let me go!”

“What are you?” Jerry asks again, this time his tone much harder; more demanding.

“I’m human,” he snaps and this feeling of recklessness is not helping him, he knows this, but he can’t help it. “Now, let go of me!”

“So demanding,” Jerry hisses against his ear. “Do you not remember our conversation from earlier? I can do whatever I want with you; I own you.”

He’s surprised by how steady and firm his voice is. “I belong to no one.”

Normally he’d be satisfied in making Jerry irritated but as the vampire growls against his throat. “I could change all that; it’d be easy,” Jerry grins against his throat. “I wonder what kind of vampire you’ll be.”

“No!” he’s struggling even harder now as fangs trace his throat, a sharp prickling feeling that only sends his heart racing. His “no’s” are becoming less forceful by the second, turning into pleads. He’s scared, he’s not even slightly ashamed to admit that. He feels those fangs sink into his flesh and his stomach churns sickly at the slurping noises that Jerry makes as he takes more blood from him. The vampire’s never taken this much blood from him; at least he doesn’t think he has but he’s coming so light headed that thinking is becoming harder and harder to do.

“Hey guy, it’s going to feel better soon,” through his dazed vision he can see that mean little smile. It’s a lie; Jerry doesn’t even need to tell him that. “You might even like immortality.”

He’s not going to like it if he’s stuck with Jerry and despite feeling so weak at the moment, he manages to shoot the vampire a glare. Jerry chuckles, bringing his right wrist to his mouth and he can faintly hear the echoes of his fangs breaking the skin. Jerry brings the wrist towards his mouth and he shakes his head, refusing to take it. Jerry backhands him across the face, a cracking sound that leaves him gasping and Jerry’s wrist over his mouth. The hot blood coats his tongue, a choking sound emanating from his throat as he refuses to swallow the fluid that’s quickly building up in his mouth. He hears Jerry sigh, using his other hand to push his head back. He swallows unintentionally and from the smile that Jerry gave him earlier, he knows this is going to hurt. That any minute now his body will start flaring up in pain and he can do nothing to stop it. The blood is thick in his throat and he’s waiting for its effects to take hold.

The only thing he feels is a tingling in his right palm that feels like an itch. Jerry pulls his wrist away, frowning and staring intently. He breathes heavily as Jerry steps back, wiping the disgusting blood away from his mouth furiously, spitting out as much as he can. He meets the vampire’s gaze and winces slightly. He looks downright furious, enraged for some reason. Yet despite all that, he can see confusion.

It hits him like a car that he doesn't feel any different than he had the few seconds before Jerry came back. There’s no pain; no fangs popping out of his gums and only the tingling feeling his hand is there. He feels absolutely the same; nothing too different.

Jerry snarls. “What are you?”

He doesn’t need to think twice about hiding his palm from Jerry; even though the itch is slowly drifting away. Jerry steps closer to him with slow deliberate steps, yanking his chin up to meet his never ending dark gaze. “Things will be easier for you if you answer,” he’s still snarling, clearly not in the mood for any more smart ass comments. “What are you?”

His brain screams at him but he ignores it and opens his mouth. “I’m human dumbass.”

He doesn’t register the punch until he’s landed back on the mattress, blood oozing from his nose and the only thing he sees is the sight of Jerry’s retreating back.

He groans in pain as the door slams shut. “I’m so screwed.”

Literally.

~

The Plasma 501 is a nightclub located a block down from The Vault Night Club & Lounge. It’s a tall, massive building with only a few windows and a massive line outside, people waiting patiently or impatiently for a chance to get inside. The only people who don’t have to show their i.d to the bouncer outside are vampires. They only show their fangs to the man and he lets them in without a second thought. If they have company with them, they’re allowed in as well. It’s a system that intrigues people from all over; dying to get a taste of this place; to get a taste of the supernatural world they’re unwittingly walking into.

Jerry easily gets entrance; the man knows exactly who he is and he makes his way inside. Through the mass throng of people and vampires alike, he moves easily around them. There are vampires of different kinds all over the place, luring humans with their glamour and charm; their attractiveness that only very few humans could resist. There are some here with their human slaves, sitting on their laps feeding from them or being pulled around by their masters. Only a handful are here with their mates.

He moves past the throng of creatures dancing, grinding their hips into their partner's’ pelvis as they danced to the strong beat being played. He’s not surprised when a hand rests on his shoulder, manicured nails digging slightly into his flesh. “Hey there,” he turns to see a female vampire; one of the Succubi race  who gives him a coy smile. She’s beautiful; their kind especially and she purrs in his ear. “What’s a handsome guy like you doing all by yourself? I could keep you company if you’d like.”

There’s glamour pouring from her voice but as another vampire, he’s immune to it. He shakes her hand off, barring his fangs and hissing at her. She hisses back, face momentarily changing from one of beauty to one that would strike fear in any human. She dashes off among the crowd, searching for another lone human or vampire to prey on. He snorts, rolling his eyes. He’s never been a huge fan of the Succubi species or any other species of vampire for that matter.

There’s another door towards the back, where two more bouncers are guarding it. He grins and straightens his shoulders, heading towards it with confident steps. The bouncers eye him warily, glancing at each other before looking at him. The one on the left clears his throat. “What’s your name?” he asks gruffly, clearly not wanting to have his time wasted. “State your business.”

“Tell Nadiya that her son Jerry’s here.”

The one on the left speaks quietly into the bluetooth attached to his ear, pausing briefly for a moment. He then nods towards him, pulling down on the door handle to open it wide enough for him to get inside. It’s one of her private rooms, where only she and certain people she wants are allowed to enter. He hasn’t been in one of her rooms since the late eighties or nineties, so it’s definitely changed. It’s entirely dark velvet red, with expensive red velvet looking couches and two crystal chandeliers. His maker’s always had a flare for the dramatics; anything shiny and expensive that she can get her hands on. There’s a bar set up on a platform towards the back where he calmly strides over to with every intention of fixing himself a long deserved drink.

“You want me to wait or something?” he asks jokingly with his back turned to her, pouring the gin into a cocktail glass, grabbing one of the limes. “You look kind of busy.”

Nadiya is sitting on one of the couches, face perfectly controlled for someone’s who’s getting her pussy eaten out. Her form fitting black mini dress has been hiked up to the top of her thighs, a redheaded girl in between her legs and sucking quite loudly on his maker’s clit. He’s used to this; Nadiya’s always liked the secret promise of an audience. He leans back against the bar counter, watching the sight. She smiles at him, a drink held carefully in her hand as she tilts it towards him. “You know I don’t care,” there’s a hint of amusement in her tone as her pale gray eyes sparkle. “It’s been a long time, Ιερεμίας. You could have had the decency to call or visit me.”

Some might find it odd to be speaking with someone while they’re having sex, but this is nothing new between the two of them. They’ve spent four centuries together; went on many journeys as humanity changed and grew. All vampires have families, every single one of their species is family oriented at heart. They have to be to keep each other alive and in line, so he knows she’s more than irritated when she glares at him.

Nadiya lets out a loud gasp, rolling her hips into the redheaded girl’s face. It’s like this for a few minutes more until she finally comes, threading her red manicured fingers through fiery colored hair. The girl pulls her head back, wiping her lips with her hand and stands up, adjusting her dress as she stands. Nadiya sighs contently. “Could you give us a moment, Aubrey? I’ll join you upstairs soon.”

The girl, Aubrey, winks. “Don’t keep me waiting too long,” she grabs her heels that are sitting near the couch, giving him a wink as she heads towards another door opposite of the one he came through. “See you around.”

The second she’s gone he steps over to his maker, taking the couch right in front of her. She’s not too pleased; he can tell by the twist of her lips and the way her arms are crossed that she’s not happy with him. “I should have called,” he knows the best way to make her less angry; to have her calm down. “I should have visited, but I didn’t. I apologize.”

Normally he wouldn’t do this to anyone, but his maker is an entirely different story. He owes everything to her. Their bond as maker and child connected them in ways humans would have trouble understanding. It’s akin to that of a parent and child, but on a different level. Makers could kill their children and no one would think of it.

Nadia clicked her tongue. “Kathleen was here recently. When was the last time you even made contact with your daughter?” she sniffed in disapproval, but he definitely notes she looks less angry now. “At least she had the consideration to visit her grandmother.”

Ah, Kathleen. He really needs to keep better contact with his children if he wants to have future family reunions (he is a family man at heart) and a better relationship. Kathleen’s always been loyal; he’s never had a problem with her. He’s not entirely sure where the others are but if he needs them, they’ll come. Master-Child bond, after all.

“I was not aware Kathleen was here,” he answers honestly, doing his best to appease her. “I promise, Nadiya, that I will visit soon.”

“Make sure you do so,” she nods her head at his vow and she offers a smile. Leaning back into her spot on the couch. “So,” she begins conversationally after a long sip of her vodka. “You had a little problem in Las Vegas. Care to elaborate?”

He’s almost a little ashamed to admit to her what happened. “There were some humans that got a little too nosey. I killed one, turned the other but he ended up dying as well. I have one of them with me right now. He and his mother came pretty close to killing me; missed my heart by an inch.

She had been taking another sip, but once the words that he’d almost been killed slipped past his mouth, she stopped in mid-sip. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, her grip on the glass tightening ever so slightly. “You haven’t killed him yet?” her voice is barely a whisper but he can hear the deadly anger dripping from it. “Why?”

He doesn’t meet her eyes, opting to stare at the liquid still mostly full in his glass. “It’s his blood,” he answers truthfully. “I’ve never had anything like it.”

“What?”

He ignores the sharp inflection in her voice, thoughts now solely resting on the young man locked away in his house. He smiles in spite of the tension. “You remember how sunlight feels?” he takes immense satisfaction by the way her eyes widen. “I’ve had his blood flow through me. It’s nothing that we’ve ever experienced before. I actually felt alive again.”

She scoffs. “Impossible,” she shakes her head in disbelief but he can see a flicker of curiosity burn through her gaze. She sets her glass down on a coaster on top of the glass dining table. “No human can possibly taste like that.”

“I’m not lying; he really does taste nothing like other humans. It’s all tucked away in those veins of his. He looks and smells like a normal human on the outside,” he gives a small chuckle. “I even tried to turn him today.”

“What do you mean?” she raises an eyebrow. “Did he somehow get away? Ιερεμίας, are you having trouble getting ‘ready’.”

“No,” he rolls his eyes at the obvious jab towards his functionality. “It didn’t work; he’s immune to the gift.”

“Is he a witch?”

He snorts. “We both know witches taste different; werewolf blood is toxic to our kind,” it’s not an unknown fact. Witches’ blood is foul tasting and one of the first things young vampires learn is that werewolf blood is fatal. “I’m not sure what he is; but he’s not human.”

It’s piqued her interest, sitting up a bit straighter than she had before. She moves her honey blonde hair back, letting the curls fall back over her shoulders. “Well, now, that’s a first. What of the mother?”

“Human as they come,” he answers back airily though he did wonder. What did Jane or Charley know about Mr. Brewster. “I’m sure he gets it from the father. If Charley’s the half-breed, imagine what his pureblood father will taste like.”

He watches her eyes light with hunger. She stands, heels tapping the floor lightly as she headed back to the bar to put more into her glass. She’s staring intently at its contents, thinking hard about what he’s just said. He’s no mind reader, but he can read her like a book. “Bring him to me,” she commands, finally turning to face him with a full drink in hand. He doesn’t like the nasty gleam in her eye, no doubt she wants to meet the teen who nearly came close to killing him. “I want to meet the one who had the nerve to best you.”

Well, he wouldn’t say it like that, but the kid did come close. “I’ll bring him over,” he doesn’t allude to when; in the near future or not, but he’s sure she’ll set a time. “I’m getting married in a month and I expect you to bring him.”

Wait. What?

“Since when are you getting married? You’re taking a mate?” he watches as a smirk grows on her face. “Who are you taking as your mate?”

“Aubrey,” Nadiya replies after taking a long smooth sip of her vodka. “You would know if you had bothered to keep in contact. All the covens are coming to the event; it’s not everyday a Queen takes the sacred vow.”

It’s not, and he knows she takes pleasure in reminding him of his error. Nadiya tosses a white envelope, the symbol of their clan sealing the thing shut. It’s a wedding invitation, he knows this already as he opens the thing. It’s not everyday he gets invited to an event as grand as this one (mating is a serious event, after all), so he’ll make  note to go. And bring Charley. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he answers, grinning as wide as she is. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she doesn’t even blink as she speaks. “And I’ll do some research.”

“Will you?”

“Of course I will; this is intriguing, isn’t it?” she gives a small laugh, her glass now sitting on the counter to trace the huge blood diamond sitting on her left ring finger. She glances over at the tapestry hanging on one of the walls, identical to the one hanging in his new home. “I’ll ask the others too. See if they know anything. You could also try asking some witches; they might have answers.”

“I’d rather not; I’m not well liked in that community, you know,” he gives a small self-depreciating laugh that she only rolls her eyes at. He finishes his own drink, standing up to join her next to the bar. “You remember Ojai, don’t you?”

“You mean that little fiasco that happened? I think I remember having to clean up your mess,” while she’s smiling at him, he can see the warning in her pale eyes. Neither of them want another situation like that again. “That Supreme Witch, she really wasn’t happy with you for kidnapping her granddaughter. I promised her you wouldn’t set foot there for at least a few years. You haven’t been there recently, have you?”

“You would know,” he sighs dramatically. “I would ask a witch if I knew one I could go to. I’m pretty sure their entire community wants me dead.”

“Well that’s your own fault,” she chastises, even having the nerve to wag a slim pale finger at him. “I’m sure he’s something we can figure out. The world really is a small place.”

He has to agree with her, though he wonders if coming to her was such a good idea. His maker he trusts but the others, no. While figuring out what the kid is his main goal at the moment, he’ll need to keep him away from the others. There’s no way he’s going to share what belongs to him.

Charley is his and no one elses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well comment please! Bookmark and leave a kudo if you haven't :)


	4. At a crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Left all to himself, Charley muses while Jerry sleeps. Amy makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating in a while! School comes before everything, but now that summer break is here, I have more time to fully work on this fic. That and finding a summer job, but hey, school is done. So weird to be a Junior in college now O.o seems like yesterday I was a freshman. Anyway I've been working on this chapter since spring break, so I'm mostly happy with it. If Amy's part seems a little short, there'll be more to her in the next chapter. Promise!

_ “Wait, he can’t kill us, not in here...” _

_ “Oh, really? Look around you; you think any of these people are gonna notice?” _

_ She’s not looking at him anymore, her head turning towards the kitchen area they just vacated from. He follows her gaze, instinctively taking her hand into his. Both their eyes meet Jerry’s, who’s gazing at them with such mal intent; such irritation that he knows they’re in deep trouble now. He wonders if he’s still in shock from what’s happened a mere few minutes ago. He’s just killed his former best friend; watched him fall away into nothing but a charred pile of black ash. Ed, the first kid he’d ever truly befriended is now dead. He’s dead; Adam too. Both of them are dead and it’s his fault. It’s his fault, all his fault, he couldn’t save them… _

_ “Oh my God,” Amy’s pulling on his hand now; his feet can’t seem to move on their own. She may be a track runner, but she’s certainly a lot stronger than he is right now. “Charley, c’mon, Charley we’ve got to move! Charley!” _

_ It’s almost like she’s slapped him; he suddenly feels more aware of his surroundings. He can feel the pulse of the music that’s playing; the blinding flash of the strobe lights as they move about. There’s laughter and people calling out to each other as they dance without a care in the world, completely unaware of the evil that’s just entered into the establishment. He knows they can’t stay here, Amy knows it too. It’s too crowded; people aren’t paying attention to what’s going on around them. They need to get out into the open; into the streets where it’ll be harder for Jerry to get them. _

_ Unless Jerry doesn’t give two shits about the public. Just the thought of Jerry annihilating the entire strip of Las Vegas just to find them is enough to send ice cold fear run through his entire body. He feels almost frozen if not for the fact that Amy’s hand is warm and sweaty against his own. She’s nervous too; more afraid if anything. Yet she’s still moving, pushing forward to keep the two of them alive. She’s the one who dragged him out of Peter’s penthouse since he’d been too shocked to move.  _

_ “Charley, we need to keep moving. Charley? Charley!” _

_ The DJ is calling out something about free t-shirts and all of a sudden, there’s a huge swarm of people crowding in on them. He’s struggling to keep ahold of Amy, his gaze focused solely on the back of her head as she’s looking for a way around the throng of people waving their hands in hopes of getting a stupid t-shirt. All of a sudden, he can’t feel Amy’s hand in his anymore. She’s lost in the crowd, being pulled further away as they move. “Charley! Charley!” _

_ “Amy!” _

_ “Charley!” _

_ “Charley.” _

_ He feels the rush of dread go down his spine as a voice hisses in his ear. Two hands settle on his hips and he can’t move. He knows it’s Jerry; he doesn’t even have to look at him to know that. He wants to retch at the feel of lips against his ear, the curve of that damn smile as Jerry continues. “We should go talk somewhere more...private.” _

_ He calls out as loud as he can over the loud music and people. “AMY!” _

_ He’s not prepared when Jerry pretty much tosses him over his shoulder, easily ignoring how he struggles and attempts to push himself off. “Amy!” _

_ He finally sees her and when she finally sees him, she’s both horrified and angry. “Charley!” she’s calling out, pushing rudely past other club-goers as she hurries in her efforts to save him. “Charley!” _

_ He’s dropped back to the ground, hands on his neck as his head is forced upwards to meet Jerry’s cruel gaze. “Hey guy,” his voice is a dangerous purr, luring him in and preventing him from pulling away. “I think it’s time we had a little man to man chat, don’t you think?” _

_ He struggles against the hold that only tightens ever so slightly. “Let me go!” he can’t see where Amy is but he knows he can’t allow Jerry to harm her. He failed Ed and Adam; his mother too, but he won’t allow anything to happen to Amy. “Please, don’t-” _

_ “Hurt precious Amy?” Jerry mocks lightly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” _

_ “Charley!” _

_ They’re standing a little bit further from the crowd now and if this is what Jerry considers as “private”, he’s not entirely convinced. Yet the people here are distracted beyond belief so if the vampire decides to kill him now, he doubts any of them will notice. Amy’s pushed her way out, stumbling a little as she almost loses her balance. When she sees him, her face pales dramatically but it doesn’t stop her from nearly breaking into a sprint to get him.  _

_ She almost reaches him when a hand stops her. A woman, at least five or seven years older than them has laid a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, aren’t you a little young? Lemme see some i.d.” _

_ “My boyfriend-” _

_ “I.d. now.” _

_ Amy obviously ignores her but the woman’s flagged over a man who grips her firmly by the arm. “We don’t allow minors in here, missey. I’m going to have to escort you out.” _

_ “My boyfriend’s in trouble!” _

_ Of course Jerry pulls the two of them away the minute she says that. He’s thrown unceremoniously over his shoulder again and Jerry’s transported him out of the club. They’re in some alleyway now; he can’t even remember how they got there but that’s not what he’s more concerned with right now. Jerry has him pinned against the wall with his body, his face so close to his he has to turn his head. “This is better,” Jerry whispers, breath tickling his ear. “Now, we’re going to take a trip together, you and I.” _

_ “No!” _

_ “I wasn’t asking your permission,” he snarls. “You’ve caused me quite a lot of grief, Charley. I just moved here and already you’ve ruined everything.” _

_ “Fuck you!” _

_ “Maybe later,” he blanches and Jerry only chuckles, his index finger tracing his throat in an oddly gentle yet threateningly manner. “I’m going to teach you a lesson, Charley. And after it, you’ll regret ever have messing with me.” _

_ That’s the last thing he hears before his neck is meant with a blunt force and everything goes dark. _

The first thing he notices is that he’s warm. Comfortably warm, for that matter, and there’s no creeping chill crawling against his skin. His eyes open immediately and he instantly regrets bolting upright for his head spins for a few seconds, forcing him to close his eyes and rest his body back down. He spends few moments just breathing in and out, the sense of vertigo slowly drifting away. He slowly gets back up, taking in his new surroundings.

It’s certainly a step up from the place he’d been previously staying in, that’s for sure. It’s a well furnished bedroom, Mediterranean style, just like the rest of the house. With light beige walls and a large window covered by black window blinds and heavy looking dark brown curtains. The bed he’s been placed on is soft, and he suddenly realizes it’s silk. He’s no expert on fabric but that stuff is expensive, right? Though the more he thinks about it, the whole house looks expensive and he hasn’t even seen most of it. 

He swings his legs slowly over the edge of the bed, standing up cautiously. Jerry must be around, even though the alarm clock on the nightstand says it’s only ten past one in the afternoon. The room is dark, but still light enough for him to see as he makes his way to the door. 

It’s not hard to maneuver around the house, walking slowly down the stairs; alert for any sign of the vampire. But there’s nothing. The house is absolutely quiet, as if no one lives here. He fumbles around for a few moments, almost losing his footing on the stairs. He’s gripping the railing so tight that his hand begins to ache, taking slow steps the rest of the way down. He eventually meets the bottom, finding himself back in the front living area Jerry first placed him in. How long ago that was, he doesn’t remember. Two, possibly three, days ago? 

His stomach growls at him and he sighs, attempting to calm the quickening of his heart. “It’s daytime,” he mutters aloud, quiet enough that it’s barely a whisper. “Jerry’s probably underground somewhere. Besides, vampires are weak in the daytime, right?” It’s a paltry effort to calm himself down, but he supposes he has the upperhand here. If Jerry were to come out, he could open one of the blinds and step in the light. Jerry wouldn’t be able to get him. For a while, at least, until the sun went down. 

The kitchen is definitely a step up from his own. Polished dark wood cabinets and light brown walling made it seem very warm and open, and he takes a seat at the breakfast nook, scowling deeply at the bowl of apples left on the table. He contemplates the idea of throwing them out the window, taking pleasure in the image of Jerry’s astounded face when he realizes they’re gone. It wouldn’t help him escape, though. 

It’s when he’s looking at the apples that he realizes there’s a note right next to the bowl. He reaches for it, blanching immediately at the realization it’s from Jerry.

_ Hey guy, if you’re reading this, I know you’re awake and probably making some lame attempt at escaping. If you are, don’t. I’ll know. Anyway, I’m getting some much deserved rest right now (haha, wouldn’t you like to know where my coffin is?), and I’ll be up when the sun’s down. If you do manage to escape, know that I’m not the only vampire in this neighborhood or in the city. If you end up getting killed by one of the others, I promise that it will be painful. There’s food in the kitchen, so feed yourself. Also, don’t try to burn the house down; it’s not actually mine, you know.  _

_ ~Jerry _

The first thing he wants to do is go look for some matches, but he shakes that thought aside. He scours through the cabinets instead, looking for anything he can make. He ends up finding some bread and peanut butter, making a quick sandwich. He eats it in silence, and while the food is steadily silencing the growling in his stomach, it doesn’t ease his strained nerves. The bread tastes like cardboard on his tongue, the peanut butter sticking uncomfortably in his throat until he got a glass of water. He doesn’t want to eat, but he needs to. To stay alert; to survive.

It’s so quiet in the house he can hear a pin drop. Jerry’s asleep somewhere but he can still feel those cold, unfeeling eyes on him. It makes his stomach churn unpleasantly at the thought, a sense of flight taking hold and begging at him to run. Though the rational part of him argues against it, a single question running through his mind. “Where would he run to?”

He’s already beyond feeling pre-stress stressed. The stress where he’s stressed before the stress because of all the stress that’s building up all around him. The anxiety curls at the pit of his stomach and for a moment, he thinks he might throw up. If he could find Jerry’s coffin, he might even throw up on that. Downside of that thought being that the vampire would probably, no, definitely kill him. 

His face falls into his hands and he runs them through his hair, breathing in deeply through his nose and out of his mouth in a slow, attempting method at becoming calm. No doubt Jerry is probably taking cruel enjoyment out of his misery. 

He leaves the plate in the sink to soak before wandering through the rest of the darkened house. He turns on a few lights, highly doubting that artificial light will hurt the vampire. An idea formulates in his mind and he heads back into the kitchen, searching frantically through the cabinets and drawers. All there are are butter knives and forks that don’t look like they’re going to do much to hurt Jerry. The bastard’s probably “vampire proofed” the house, taking immense glee in his frustration. 

He keeps searching for anything, (and he means anything), to protect himself. He’s not too sure about the efficiency of garlic and he’ll be damned if he throws it at Jerry and nothing happens. He’s also not too keen on seeing the look that will spread on Jerry’s face when it fails. 

There’s nothing in the living room that will be of help, though he supposes he can make a spike out of one of the couch boards or something. All the tables are made of firm glass, so that’s of no use to him. If anything, he can use the dining room furniture to make a few more spikes. He’s going to die here, but he won’t die without making it as difficult as possible. 

Surprisingly, the door to the backyard isn’t locked. It’s a glass screen door with the same dark blinds as the rest of the house and he slides it open with ease. It’s beautiful, he supposes, at the very least nicer than some of the ones he’s seen at the other houses. Amy has a pool in her backyard, but it’s not as fancy and decorated as this one. If he ever finds the need to drown himself, well, the pool’s just back here…

He swallows thickly, trying his best to ignore the fluttering feeling in his stomach. It hits him suddenly that out here, he’s safe. Under the afternoon sun’s rays, nothing from the world of the night can hurt him. He can stay out here all day and if Jerry doesn’t like that, then too bad. There’s nothing the vampire can do about it. 

He rethinks that for a moment. Jerry can always lock the door, as he did with the front one. He thinks about the letter now crushed crudely into his pocket and pulls it out, looking at it once more. It’s almost as though Jerry wants him, no, is anticipating his escape. The vampire is wanting to play a game and for once, he’s not going to participate. 

There’s a tingling feeling in his palm and he looks down. The weird symbol, one that he almost thought for a moment didn’t exist is staring him in the face with an obnoxious shine. It shimmers like molten gold in the light of the sun and for a moment he expects pain, but there is none. There’s only that tingling sensation akin to an itch at the back of his skull. He can’t ignore it even if he wanted to. 

He stares down at the water, doing his best to ignore the negative thought from earlier. Despite the dark humor residing in his mind, he’s truly not ready to die. He’s so close to being eighteen; it’s only March 4 and he’s a month away from his birthday. If he can survive this month, he can make it to eighteen, right? He doesn’t want to answer that question and he can’t help the tightening feeling of apprehension twist his insides. The future is becoming more and more uncertain and he has no one to blame but himself. He drug himself into this mess; he’s the only one who can get himself out. 

There’s a part of him, one he’s not proud of, that wants to blame Ed and Adam. The second that thought crosses his mind, tears sting against his eyes before he can stop them. It’s not fair of him to ruin their memories with selfish thoughts and he barely registers the salty tasting tears that are now flowing uncontrollably down his cheeks. His memories of them; the fading summer scents and the echoes of conversations past that he can’t fully recall. 

There’s Adam, with his unruly thick dark brown hair and quiet smile. He had been the quietest out of the three of them, usually going along with whatever ideas he or Ed cooked up. Then there’s Ed with his giant glasses and frail body, practically wheezing as they ran through the neighborhood. He can see all of it now, all the memories he tried to push away in order to make the guilt of abandoning them less prevalent. Whether it be the three of them sitting together on Adam’s couch watching Pokemon while trying to ignore Adam’s twin sister, Rebecca’s, complaints about them hogging the TV. Or the nights they’d spend at Ed’s house, staying up late to watch R-rated horror films that they knew their parents did not approve of. 

There are many more running through his mind, but it hurts to think about them. A few days ago he would have merely shrugged them off as silly childhood memories. Now, they’re a reminder. His reminder that the normal mundane world is gone and he can’t go back to it. The world he took for granted is gone forever. Adam’s entire family is gone, departed because of a simple urge of curiosity. Ed’s parents, Mark and Angela, will never know what happened to their son. They’ll spend the rest of their lives wondering, waiting for the son that will never come home. 

He can’t help but think of his own mother, who for all he knows, is still lying unconscious in the hospital. She’ll be in the same position as Mark and Angela, only she’ll know the truth. She will know that Jerry killed him eventually, drained him slowly before ditching his body in some god forsaken place that no one will ever find. The very thought makes the sandwich lying in his stomach suddenly disagree, though it’s not about the thought of his death. It’s rather the thought that when he dies, his mother will be completely defenseless.

Peter’s a useless jackass; too much of a coward to help anyone other than himself. He’s not sure if Jerry will hunt her down, considering she knows the truth about his existence and could possibly be a threat. He might even go after his Aunt Linda, who while in her old age, is a black belt in karate and is capable of defending herself. Of course if it’s against Jerry, she’ll lose and the damn vampire will take complete satisfaction about wiping out his entire family. It won’t even before his survival at that point. It’ll just be for amusement, a mockery of his name. 

He can’t let this happen. His mom and aunt don’t deserve that fate and now that he thinks about it, neither does Amy. She’ll be a target too and he’ll be damned if anymore harm comes to the people he loves. It’s his fault they’re in this situation; they never asked to be apart of this and he unwittingly dragged them into it. He’s sorry he ever did, but he’s still alive, so he can do his best at keeping Jerry’s attention occupied enough for them to hopefully get out. It’s the least he can do. He’s no longer a child, after all. He’s grown up enough to look after them, now. 

He moves, stumbling a little as he makes his way back into the house. He hasn’t explored much of the upper floor of the house aside from the room he woke up in. There’s nothing but spare bedrooms and a few bathrooms. Nothing of which will help defend him against Jerry. One of the bathrooms has shampoo and conditioner, but he’s not sure if getting shampoo in Jerry’s eyes will help him. Although the thought of Jerry getting soap in his eye is oddly amusing.

There is, however, one room that he practically stumbles across by accident. He almost dismissed it as another room or a closet, but when he opens it, it’s nothing more than a simple study. With light hardwood floors and walls, he notices that it’s quite a large room when he steps inside. Smooth wooden book shelves plated with glass cover one end of the wall. They’re full of books, modern and old alike. He pulls one open, taking an old looking book. He coughs at the dust that creeps up into his face and his face falls into one of disappointment when he realizes the whole thing is in Latin. Maybe if he had paid better attention in Spanish he might have been able to read some of it.

He puts the book back with a sigh, running his hand through his messy curls. He needs to shower; when was the last time he cleaned himself? He grimaces at the reminder and quickly casts those thoughts aside. He doesn’t need to start crying again. What he needs to do is try to find something, anything of leverage, that he can hold against Jerry. That being said, his search is starting to become more and more hopeless by the second. 

The only thing, and this is a big speculation on his part, is the sword sitting right in the middle of the study room’s large table. It’s old, he can tell that right off the bat, and it doesn’t look like it’s been used recently. It appears to be more antique than anything else and a part of him wonders if it belongs to Jerry. Other than the fact he’s four hundred something years old, he doesn’t know anything about the vampire. Jerry’s a complete enigma. He doesn’t know where he was born, where he lived, how he lived and better yet, how he became a vampire. He’s not even sure if “Jerry” is even his real name. 

He turns his focus back to the sword, hand reaching out to touch at its ornate features. It’s single edged and curved, with tiny specks of rust on the edges for whatever reason. It has to be antique; he can’t imagine Jerry’s kept it with him all these years. Except the vampire claims to be sentimental, but even now, he’s not sure if Jerry was being honest or not. 

It’s at that moment he notices the vase. Standing near the sword and in almost perfect condition, the Greek vase stares at him proudly. A bronze, almost light brown color with black painting. He doesn’t dare touch it, for fear of breaking it and incurring the wrath of whoever owned it. He’s not sure if it belongs to Jerry; he doesn’t recall seeing it when he broke into the vampire’s house. 

As he studies it, he has the faint recollection of something they talked about in his history class once during his freshman year. If he gets out of this alive, he’ll make sure to thank his teacher for making him remember all the stuff he deemed as useless. This is a funeral vase, a marker of a grave. A child’s grave, he thinks, seeing as there’s a group of people standing around a child’s body. Or maybe a baby’s; he’s not entirely sure. Yet, he’s certain this doesn’t belong to Jerry. It has to belong to...well, whoever owns this house. 

He pales at the thought of the owner of the house. It’s a small reminder that Jerry’s not the only vampire in the world; there are others like him. Others that he hopes he doesn’t ever have to meet. Jerry will always be the number one evilest vampire in history, but now there’s a possibility that there are even worse creatures than him stalking the streets. 

That’s when he notices the symbol. Next to the vase is a book, an ancient looking book with that strange painting on the cover. The same one that was in Jerry’s old house and the one hanging in the living room. Peter knows what it is, but he only focuses on one part of it. The vampire race that Jerry belongs to. There are four other strange symbols on the cover that he doesn’t recognize, ones that could have various meanings that he’s not sure if he really wants to find out about. Yet even when he flips through the book, it’s entirely pointless. It’s written in another language, Greek or something; he doesn’t know. 

He jumps when he hears the clock chime and quickly looks up towards it. It’s already three o’clock, two hours before the sun will set and Jerry will come out. Great. One more encounter that he sure as hell is not looking forward to. 

He has two hours before he has to face Jerry and his heart slams violently against his chest. He won’t deny it, he is afraid of Jerry. Who wouldn’t be? He’s come so close to killing him and it’s an absolute miracle that he’s still alive. As he makes his way back to the room he woke up in, he can’t help but think that. It’s been his wits and whatever god is looking after him that he’s been alive for this long. 

He’s not even going to begin thinking about the dream or the strange insignia on his palm.

There’s an adjoining bathroom in the room he woke up in, he remembers, and one of the bathrooms has shower supplies. More than likely, they belong to Jerry so he doesn’t even care when he swipes them and heads back into the room. He takes the longest shower he has ever taken in his life and despite the less than ideal circumstances, the shower is the best shower he’s ever had.

There’s no other clothes he can change into, so he’s stuck with the ones he’s been wearing for days. The ones that are wrinkled and stained with dried blood. As he stands in front of the bathroom mirror, running his fingers through his wet hair, he notices the marks on his neck are no longer there. His nose is no longer broken either. It immediately started healing when Jerry walked out after punching him in the face, leaving him holding his nose in pain as blood gushed out. Then that weird tingling feeling in his palm started and there was no pain. There had been a weird sensation of his nose resetting but other then that, the pain was gone. 

He heads back into the room, pulling back the curtains and blinds to let the last of the day’s sunlight in. It’s only ten past four, so he lays on the bed staring out the window until his eyes grow heavy and he falls asleep.

Not for very long, though he wakes up to the sight of the darkening sky and the fading sun that’s almost completely gone. Jerry’s probably up by now and the very thought makes his pulse quicken with apprehension. He can’t avoid him forever; not when they’re in the same house. If what the vampire said is true, then there are other vampires outside and they probably know he’s here. He hates to say it, but Jerry is his only source of protection against them unless he can find something to defend himself with. 

Fuck, he is so screwed.

He looks out the window once more, watching as the sun sinks even lower into the skyline. The moon is rising, and in the distance he can see the faint outline of stars. He can’t see them very well, but there’s a sharp pang of homesickness that makes his mouth taste sour. A memory of summer nights with his mom when he was little, at the first home they had when they moved out of San Francisco. Sitting out on the back porch, him wrapped in her arms with her chin on the top of his head looking up at the stars. Normally she didn’t care for the sciences; biology and chemistry, but they both held a deep admiration for the night sky.

They’re never going to share a moment like that again. At least, not while he’s stuck here with a sadistic vampire intent on ruining his life. 

He frowns, swinging his legs off the bed and trodds silently over to the door. The whole house is quiet as he descends down the stairs though the lights have been turned on. That means Jerry’s awake and is either waiting for him, or stalking him silently from the shadows. He prefers the former, but even then, he’s not too keen on seeing the bastard.

He finishes heading down the stairs and finds himself at an impasse as he stares at the front door. If he tries to run, Jerry will more than likely catch him. He might wait a few seconds, but victory will ultimately be his. Or he’ll let whatever vampires outside have their way with him. Hell, he’ll probably join in with the torture. 

There’s nothing really he can do except face Jerry, something both terrifying and a bit foolish to do. Yet, he’s managed to stay alive this far and Jerry hasn’t killed him yet, so he supposes that’s a good thing. Maybe not, but the memory of what happened yesterday is enough to ignite a small flare of hope. He can do this; he can face Jerry. 

The second he walks into the dining room, he stops dead in his tracks. Jerry seats at one of the expensive looking chairs, holding an apple that’s been bitten. He smiles. “Hey Charley,” those damn dark eyes light up with mirth, yet he is the only one who finds this situation amusing. “Sit down. We need to have a little man to man chat.”

Fuck.

~

Amy Peterson never in her life thought vampires were real. 

Her world up until a few days ago was completely normal. She’s a senior in high school, member of the track team and a well liked person for the most part. She has a boyfriend, a lovable geek who’s the nicest guy she’s ever met despite his odd behavior as of late. Behavior she now wishes she had taken more seriously. 

Her life has never been this chaotic, at least, not like this. There’s only two instances in her life that she can think of that have been similar. The first one happened when she was eight and she stumbled across some papers in their attic. When she confronted her parents about it, they sat her down and told her she was adopted. Her mother, who had been a teenager at the time, found her parents through an adoption agency and once she was born, gave her up. A “closed” adoption, seeing as her biological mother didn’t want any contact with her. Essentially erasing her out of her life. 

The second instance was when she was thirteen and her father had been promoted in the company he worked in. He had been promoted to a high position office, and despite her largely ignored protests, he moved the three of them from Rochester, New York to the city of Las Vegas. Making friends has never been a difficult thing for her, but at the time, she had been furious about the fact her parents were forcing her to leave her friends. 

Now, all that seems miniscule compared to the hellfire that’s just happened recently. She’s nearly been killed, chased by a psychotic vampire, could only stand there as said vampire killed a man, watched as Charley killed his best friend out of self defense, and worse, witnessed her boyfriend being kidnapped by the damn vampire while security carted her outside. The cherry on top was having to tell Jane, who’s still in the hospital, that her son is missing and she failed to do anything. 

She can’t help the tears of frustration that trickle down her cheeks as she paces across the room. Her parents are furious with her, grounding her from leaving the house unless it’s to go to school and making her spend most of her time in her room. She knows they're only doing it because they love her and are still extremely unsettled by the events that have just occurred. She is too, lying awake for the past several nights afraid that Jerry will come after her. 

Though she’s mostly concerned about Charley.

He has to be alive, she refuses to accept any other option. She can’t sleep now, thoughts plagued by fear of what is happening to her Charley. She swallows down the tight feeling in her throat as the image of Jane’s devastated face flashes across her mind. She loves Jane, feeling a kinship towards her that she doesn’t have with her own mother. They don’t know where Charley is, if he’s alive or is being kept in some dark, cold place completely at Jerry’s mercy.

The pacing across her bedroom floor isn’t doing much to help her calm down. She’s never been one to sit still, not for anything. She needs to do something; she can’t sit by and let anything else happen to Charley. He may have dragged them all into this awful situation, but he doesn’t deserve to be tortured. They’re just teenagers, kids who got in way over their heads. If she just sits here in this room and pretend that it’s all been just a nightmare, she would never forgive herself. 

With those thoughts in mind, she glances at her bedroom window. Her parents are out for the night, trusting her to not sneak out but this is important. They won’t understand; no one but Jane and maybe that Peter guy will ever understand her reasoning to leaving. Charley’s life is depending on her, and she won’t be going down without a fight.

She stuffs clothes into a duffle bag that’s been stored away in her closet, throwing her phone charger and her wallet in there as well before heading out the door of her room.

It’s the last time she’ll ever see her home for a while. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, decided to flesh a few small things out. Such as Adam having a twin, names of parents, Amy being adopted, those are all just little head canons I have floating around in my head. You don't have to agree with them, but these are for my story. Leave a comment if you'd like! Bye!
> 
> Oh, also I've created a playlist for this fic on Spotify! I can make it public if you're interested. It's labeled JerryxCharley (wow, so original, I know) check it out if you'd like to.


	5. We need to talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charley doesn't believe anything Jerry says. Go figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating sooner! To be honest, this chapter was a bitch to write because I just couldn't think of anything at first. Jerry, for me personally, is kind of hard to write. I want him to come off as campy, yet still threatening, but I don't think he's turned out too bad. Well, he's supposed to be bad regardless, so I guess I succeeded? 
> 
> Any who, I dragged my sister into this fandom and she's now doing fan art for this story! She might allow me to post it, but I'd have to ask her first. Technically the art is my birthday present (woo only a month away!) and usually she takes forever to do art. Honestly, I'm glad she's doing it because the fan art for this fandom is seriously lacking.

“Sit down. We need to have a little man to man chat.”

Does he want to sit down? No, but his feet start moving before he can do anything to go against Jerry’s request. He takes the seat that’s the farthest away from from the bastard, which the vampire obviously notices and grins maniacally. He doesn’t even want to know what’s going on in his head right now. His hands wring together in his lap; a nervous tick he’s never quite gotten out of. In the deafening silence he can hear the steady ticking of the clock sitting at one of the wall’s corners. 

“You don’t need to look like a cornered mouse; I’m not going to hurt you,” Jerry breaks the silence with his calmly smooth voice, yet he can hear the dark amusement in his inflection. He doesn’t believe him for a second.

“Yeah, right,” he snorts and rolls his eyes. “All those other times were just you playing around.”

“I just lost my temper there for a second, Charley,” he speaks smoothly, with ease that has him believe that Jerry is absolutely certain in himself. He adjusts himself by leaning forward on his arms to look more 

‘Casual’. It’s definitely not working. “Things have just been a little tense, that’s all.”

From the look Jerry’s giving him, he would have to be an idiot to not know why. He won’t deny it; he did throw a wrench into Jerry’s plans (something he refuses to not take pride in) and potentially saved the rest of the neighborhood. 

“Why am I here and not in that...place you put me in?” he asks, not thinking of a better word for the basement like area he had been trapped in. “What do you want?”

There has to be a reason why Jerry let him out; it can’t be the simple “we need to have a chat”, story that Jerry seems to be fixated on. No, he can see it in the those dark eyes. He can see the hunger and curiosity that’s not remotely hidden away. He’s unwittingly made Jerry curious and with that knowledge, he swallows his fear down tightly. “What do you want to talk about?” he asks instead.

“How about we talk about that little stunt you pulled yesterday?” Jerry smiles, but it doesn’t reach those cold dead eyes. “What kind of secrets are you keeping from me, Charley?”

One, he doesn’t like the way Jerry says his name. He doesn’t like the shivers that go down his spine and the way his heart seems to beat even quicker. Two, he doesn’t have any secrets that Jerry could want. “I don’t have anything,” he admits and it’s the truth; he’s as normal as they come. “No secrets. Nothing.”

“Really now, Charley, that can’t be true.”

He shrugs his shoulders in an act that could be interpreted as defiant. “Well it is.” He grumbles. That’s all he’s willing to give Jerry in this moment, yet he still can’t stop himself from flinching as those eyes burn into his very being.

Jerry only smirks softly. “Somehow I find that very hard to believe,” the way he’s leaning on his arms doesn't make him appear less threatening. He’s still giving him that smile that’s not quite a smile, but more of a dangerous smirk. “I get the feeling you’re hiding something from me.”

“I’m not,” he says with irritation lacing his tone and he glares at Jerry even harder when he notices that thinly veiled look of disbelief. “ _ I’m not hiding anything! _ ”

“Uh huh,” Jerry smirks, as if he knows how much he’s irritating him. “What do you know about your dad? When I spoke to your mom, she seemed pretty eager to keep her pretty mouth shut. Have any idea why?”

“Don’t talk about my mom!” he snaps and immediately feels a pang of homesickness at the very mention of his mother. Jerry just continues to smirk, knowing full well he’s hit a sore spot; a weakness. Sadistic bastard. “Just...leave her alone.”

“Aw, don’t you worry Charley, I’m not going to go after your mother,” those damn dark eyes sneer at him, and he doesn’t believe him for a second. “Why hurt her when I have you exactly where I want you?” When he doesn’t respond to that, Jerry chuckles. “Of course, that could change if you, well, I think you know.”

He knows full well what Jerry is referring to, but he doesn’t give Jerry the satisfaction of giving a reaction. “What do you want to know about me?” he asks with exasperation. 

“Anything.”

“I don’t know my dad; my mom got pregnant in her last year of high school and that’s all I know. She doesn’t like to talk about it,” she never stated if his father went to her school or not. Everytime he asked, she would clam up. She’d get a far away look in her eyes, escaping to a time and place where he could not follow. Her lips would purse and it looked as though she was holding back tears. He stopped asking when he was ten and fully realized that the subject was literally hurting her. 

He finds Jerry’s sudden interest disturbing, and more than anything, he desperately wants to change the subject. “He was probably a deadbeat,” he says quickly, averting Jerry’s cold dark eyes. “And we’re better off without him.”

An obvious lie, but Jerry doesn’t need to know that. From the look Jerry’s giving him, it’s clear the vampire can see through him. “You really do have daddy issues,” Jerry sneers, clearly amused by the glare he’s sending him from across the table. The vampire chuckles lowly. “It’s adorable, really. You teenagers sure make me feel young again.”

“What, did your dad abandon you or something?”

The question sort of fell out without his permission, but he’d have to be an idiot to not notice the change in Jerry’s expression. The subtle shift in his facial features, amusement fading and a flash of irritation falling over. It disappears as soon as it arrives and the damn smile returns. “Tell me more,” he requests, though to Charley’s ears, it sounds like an order. 

“I don’t know anything else.”

“Hmmm, I bet you do.”

“I really don’t know anything!” he half shouts at Jerry, rising slightly from the chair out of irritation. What is he getting at? The only thing he knows about his father is that his name is Michael. That’s it; nothing else, not even a last name. He would know, he’s tried looking before, but there are millions of people named Michael. His search ended in failure and the more he thinks of it, the more it leaves a bitter feeling inside. He sighs, trying to at least calm down and not give Jerry the satisfaction of seeing another outburst. “Look, I’m being honest here. I don’t know anything about my dad.”

Jerry’s quiet for a moment, actually looking somewhat perplexed. Of course, that look disappears the minute he opens his mouth. “And your mom?”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “What about her? She’s as normal as they go.”

Well, as far as he knows. He thinks that after seventeen years of living with her, he would notice if she was a supernatural creature or something. At least, he hopes. 

“You caused quite a scene yesterday,” Jerry ignores the question he just asked, immediately switching the subject with ease. “My maker, well, she wasn’t entirely pleased when she found out. I do think she wants to kill you.”

“What?”

“Oh yeah,” Jerry grins maliciously, his eyes holding his in a hypnotic trance that he cannot look away from, no matter how hard he tries. “Parents are protective of their children. I think your mom would know that.”

He silently sends a prayer to his own mother, a small burst of pride blooming at the memory of her stabbing Jerry with a sale sign. “Why isn’t she here, then?” he asks, frowning in suspicion. “If she wants me dead so badly, why hasn’t she made an attempt on my life?”

Jerry leans back into his seat, resting his arms across his chest. “See Charley, I’m the only thing that’s keeping you from being eaten alive.”

He snorts. “Bullshit.”

The vampire merely shrugs in indifference and he swears he can see a small spark in those eyes. This cannot be good; nothing good can come out of this. “I wasn’t lying in that note I sent you. There are other vampires; other members of my kind. You step outside at night without me, and they won’t be as nice as I am.”

He now wants to know what Jerry’s definition of “nice”, is, but he just scowls at him. “You’re lying; I don’t believe you. What, is this some sort of vampire community neighborhood or something?”

“In a way,” Jerry hums thoughtfully, as though he’s given it some thought. “But the second they find a human in this area, walking around without their master, well, it’ll be first come, first served sort of ordeal. They won’t give a shit what you have to say about it.”

The first thing that goes through his mind, is that Jerry is full of shit. He has to be lying; there couldn’t possibly be a neighborhood of vampires outside licking their fangs in anticipation for him. The idea of it alone is too incredulous; too convenient for Jerry. If this is his idea of how to manipulate him, it’s not going to work. He won’t give in so easily. “Liar,” he says frostily, watching as Jerry narrows his own eyes at him. “Why should I believe in anything you say? You’ve done nothing that would convince me to trust you.”

“I don’t care if you trust me or not. You think I care about the opinion of one, pathetic little human?” there’s a mixture of anger and amusement in Jerry’s sneer, and he can’t decipher which one bothers him the most. The vampire leans forward more, gaze never breaking his. A cold chill runs down his spine, but he refuses to let Jerry know how afraid he is right now. “You’re nothing but a meal to me; nothing more than a plaything. The only thing keeping me from killing you is the blood in your veins. That little secret you have. That’s the fine line, Charley, keeping you from death.”

There’s a pounding impulse in him screaming to run. Fight or flight, if he recalls now from his days at school. His legs tense in anticipation, firming his grip on the arms of the chair ever so slightly. If he’s going to run, he needs to do it soon. The longer he stays in this house, the sooner he’ll die. Regardless of the bullshit that Jerry’s spewing out.

“Why don’t you just kill me then if I’m such a bother to you?” he mentally smacks himself across the face for asking that. He knows what’s keeping him alive, and now, he’s not quite sure if he should be grateful for it. 

“Because while being immortal has its advantages, it can get boring,” Jerry replies without missing a beat, easing himself back into his relaxed demeanor and gives a sigh that he wants to deem as dramatic. “You’re the most interesting thing I’ve come across in the last four hundred years. And your blood, well, I’ve never tasted anything like it and I don’t intend to share it.”

It hits suddenly like a wall of bricks falling over him. “You don’t own me! I don’t belong to you!”

“Hate to break it to you, but yes, you do,” Jerry laughs cruelly. “Ever since I’ve taken that first drop of your blood, you belong to me.”

“No!”

“Too bad,” Jerry taunts in a nonchalant way, smirk growing enough to show the barest hint of teeth. “There’s nothing you can do about it, Charley. You're my little personal blood bag. Be grateful. It could have been pretty little Amy instead. I wouldn’t have minded having her around.”

“Leave Amy out of this!”

“Or what, you’ll try to stake me?” Jerry chuckles. “I think your mom staking me was the tenth time. Or was it the eleventh? Hard to keep track, you know? Though I can’t say I’ve ever been stabbed with a realtor sign before.”

“Shut up!” he snaps, and he faintly registers a burning feeling in his right hand. Painfully hot, like a desperate order for him to get up and run. “I wish she had stabbed you in the heart!”

“Well, we don’t always get what we want, now do we?” Jerry shakes his head, as though he’s suddenly turned back into a toddler that’s thrown a tantrum. “I have an offer for you.”

That catches him off guard, cutting sharply through the anger building up. “What?”

“I’m the only thing keeping you safe and sound from all the others. At any time, I could decide to let them have you and I promise you, they won’t be as nice as I am,” again, he rolls his eyes at Jerry’s definition of nice. He’s too busy scowling that he doesn’t even notice Jerry get up till he feels a cold hand rub almost gently on his shoulder. A cold breath hit his ear, as if Jerry needed to breathe. “So listen here, guy, I know how this community works. I can keep them away from you.”

He swallows tightly. “But?”

“I’m gonna need something from you, kid,” Jerry chuckles mirthlessly. “You give me your blood and you, you won’t end up like some dead runaway teenager.”

He pushes away from the table so fast it catches Jerry off guard. The vampire steps back with a thinly veiled look of surprise on his face. He’s aware of how fast his heart is racing right now, full of apprehension that he knows Jerry can smell. Those nostrils inhale and that crooked smile forms on Jerry’s face. “Relax, Charley,” he doesn’t like how Jerry says his name. All it does is stiffen his spine and cause his mind to start screaming at him. Jerry smiles wolfishly. “You already know what my bite feels like. You might even grow to like it.”

He’s run out of the room so fast he doesn’t even have time to think. His feet have a mind of their own, bloodied sneakers squeaking across the hardwood floor as he scrambles towards the front door. He vaguely registers kicking the expensive antique dining chair over, yet he’s more focused on listening for Jerry’s heavy sounding boots. The blood roaring in his ears is so loud he can barely hear anything aside from his own laboured breathing. 

The front door isn’t even locked and his hope surges forward. He throws it open, not even bothering to blink as he looks at the girl standing right in front of the door. Her left hand is raised as though she was about to knock. Late teens, he thinks. Asian, though he doesn’t know which country nor does he particularly care at this moment. 

He pushes past her, ignoring her quite loud sound of protest as he hears her yell after him. He doesn’t care. He’s free! Free! He can’t even conceal the smile of victory on his face. 

If anything, he runs even faster even though he can’t hear anyone following him. He turns right at the next corner, not even knowing where to go.

He doesn’t really care at this point. Anything, and he means anything, to get away from Jerry.

~

“Good work, Jerry. Seriously, well done.”

It’s times like these that he has to remind himself that Kathleen is his daughter; that he’s her sire and his favorite vampire child. She doesn’t even flinch at the annoyed look he gives her, merely shrugging her shoulders and blowing a medium length bubble from the gum she’s been popping in her mouth ever since she stepped foot in his new home. 

He’s half tempted to roll his eyes. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

He hasn’t seen her since the nineties; when they overthrew their previous leader and Nadiya took over. She still looks the same, in his eyes, and doesn’t look a day over eighteen. Aside from the nose piercing and obvious wardrobe update, she’s still the same Kathleen. 

“Death to Barbie?” he asks, looking at the tank top she’s wearing underneath her short black leather jacket, smirking at the Barbie doll head with a knife sticking through it. “Classy.”

“I’ll pay you ten bucks if you never say classy again.”

“Deal,” he’s half tempted to ruffle her hair, but he refrains from doing so. “Where have you been? Nadiya told me you’ve kept in contact with her, but not with me? I’m hurt.”

Not really, and from the look on her face, she knows he’s lying.

“I’ve been in New York recently,” she brings up her fingers, as though she’s counting off in her head all the places she’s been in the last seventeen years. “Spent five years in Vietnam before heading to China for about a year, I think? Lived in Paris for awhile, that was fun. Oh, and I spent some time in Greece. Seeing the ruins was interesting, though when I told Nadiya, she didn’t seem all too interested.”

If he were to close his eyes and imagine it, he could see Nadiya’s expression. That neutral expression changing to disinterest the minute the subject of her birthplace is brought up. “Not surprising,” he sighs almost wearily at her statement, not missing the questioning look in her dark eyes. “She’s hard to please.”

“Hmm,” Kathleen hums, foot tapping slightly against the hardwood flooring. “So, who’s the kid? Nadiya said something about you slacking off and getting caught.”

He growls, and she grins at his irritation. Again, he reminds himself that he loves his family very much; that he’s a family man at heart. “His name is Charley. He and his little friends decided they wanted to be their own little Scooby Doo gang. They thought they could spy on me and I wouldn’t notice. One I killed, and the other was your little brother. He’s dead, by the way.”

“Ah, shame,” Kathleen nods her head, though she doesn’t appear to be too bothered by it. Then again, most of her siblings keep dying, so it’s no surprise to him that she doesn’t get attached. She snaps her gum again, and with the way she’s looking at him, he knows what she’s about to ask. She tilts her head curiously, a curtain of black hair falling from her shoulder. “Totally going to pretend you didn’t just say Scooby Doo and ask this: why is he still alive? Or why isn’t he one of us?”

“It’s his blood,” he answers quickly, not even bothering to give her a description of what’s so special about it. He doesn’t want her to go after him; she’s too young to be spoiled on rich blood. 

“Nadiya said you couldn’t turn him into one of us. Is that true?”

He doesn’t like the incredulous sound in her tone, and pretends not to notice the way her eyes widen. He can’t lie to her; he’d be a bad maker if he did. “Yes,” he says without missing a beat, or offering a bit more. 

“Aren’t you going to go after him?”

“Hmm,” he taps his finger to his chin, as if he’s pondering it. “I was thinking of giving him a minute. Maybe more. Give him a little hope that he can escape.”

“Jerry!”

He chuckles and reaches over to ruffle her hair. She swats his hand away, huffing in irritation. He simply grins at her reaction. “Don’t worry; he won’t get far.”

She opens her mouth to respond when they hear the scream. He knows she heard it too; vampiric hearing and all and both their heads snap in the direction to the front door. His lips curl back to reveal his fangs. He knows that scream. He’s been the cause of that scream for the past few days.

Charley. That damn little brat.

“I’m assuming that was him,” Kathleen’s eyes seem to glow in the dark, lighting in the anticipation of a fight. It’s been awhile since they’ve fought a turf war together, or any fight in general. She tilts her head back, taking a large inhalation of air. She wrinkles her nose in mild disgust. “Do you smell something burning?”

He raises an eyebrow, but sniffs the air regardless. He smells it too. A strange smell of something burning and immediately, he knows what it is. After four hundred years of survival, the memory of what burned flesh is forever engraved into his memory. “Oh Charley,” he sighs with fake exasperation; the dark smile growing on his face is what gives it away. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”

They’re both out the door and into the darkened lamplit streets in half a second. The only thing he hears is the sound of the night and the snapping of Kathleen’s gum. 

The only thing he smells is the burning flesh of a vampire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's not extraordinarily long! Chapters will differ in length depending on what's going on and we will see more of Peter, Amy and Jane in the next chapter. Hope you guys are well! Until next time!


	6. And he set fire...to the vampire?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After running away from Jerry's house, Charley finds himself in another unwanted predicament. Amy tries to convince Peter to help her save Charley and a figure from his past makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you guys for waiting so patiently! School's back in full swing and I have an off campus job, so updates are going to be a little slower. Gotta keep my grades up, you know? But I'll try to get a new chapter in as soon as possible.

He has only been running for a minute, maybe two, when a car pulls up at his side. 

He really needs to stop getting himself into these situations; they never end well. It seems that everywhere he goes, a vampire just suddenly decides to appear. It’s not like he has something, other than blood, that they could want. It’s not like he’s vampire nip or something stupid like that. Hell, he didn’t even know that the fucking things existed until a few days ago. 

He has to wonder what he did to make the universe hate him so much. Or maybe this was a curse for ditching Ed and Adam.

He had just stopped to catch his breath for a single moment (he’s no track runner like Amy) when a pristine white convertible just so happens to pull up at his side. He’s panting, chest tightening and legs shaking from all that intense running that he doesn’t even notice the vehicle at first until a voice calls out.

“Hey kid,” it’s definitely a woman, and he can see that by just looking at her. Her long black hair is tied around by a silk head scarf to keep the wind out and a pair of expensive brand looking sunglasses cover her eyes, which, is weird considering how dark it is now. She flips the lenses up, allowing them to perch on her head and he’s suddenly able to look into her eyes.

They’re very dark, just like Jerry’s, except she looks nothing like him. He feels like he’s seen her before, somewhere, but has name to put her face to. Her blood red lips curl up into a smile that’s supposed to be reassuring, but only makes him more on edge. 

“Are you lost, honey?” she asks him sweetly, as though she truly cares. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before and boy your age shouldn’t be out here all by himself at night. Need a ride?”

He doesn’t trust this woman, not for one single moment, and it’s not because Jerry said there were other vampires in the area. Okay, that  _ might  _ be a factor, but he also has something called common sense. If he ever sees his mom again, he’ll thank her for drilling into his head about stranger danger. “No thanks,” he takes two steps away from the car, sounding polite as he possibly can without sounding too nervous. “I have someone coming to pick me up.”

Again, she smiles. “Honey, hardly anyone comes into this neighborhood. No one’s coming to get you, so why don’t you let me take you home.”

“That’s really not necessary…”

All of a sudden, she steps out of her car and gracefully appears at his side in a matter of seconds. There’s an arm wrapped around his shoulder and he can’t help but feel nauseous at the level of intimacy behind it. “There’s no need to feel shy; I don’t bite,” he knows that’s a lie, and with the twinkle in her eye, she’s not bothering to hide it either. Fantastic, he just happened to lure in another hungry vampire. “You know, I normally leave boys alone and help young girls out, but there’s something about you.”

Oh great, another vampire fanatic who thinks he’s special. Why can’t they accept the fact that he’s a normal teenage boy who just wants to be left alone and not get involved with all this supernatural bull shit? “Uh, ma'am, I’m just a normal teenager. Could you please let me go?”

She simply chuckles and shakes her head at the weak sounding question. “There’s no need to be scared, didn’t I tell you that already?” She gives his shoulder a brief pat. “Now, be a good little boy and get into my car. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

No, getting the hell away from this woman sounds nice. He shakes his head, pushing her arm off him. “Really, I don’t need your help,” he doesn’t like the way she frowns, more confused and irritated than angry. Most likely at his defiance, it seems to piss off everyone these days. He points at the direction he intends to go, even though he has no idea where the hell he’s going. “I think I hear my friends calling me; I should go-”

“No!” she snaps and her hand immediately grabs onto him. Her hand tightens around his wrist inhumanly tight, nails sharpening into an animal-like claw that’s similar to Jerry’s, yet different somehow. Pale, but not leathery, and the claws seem to resemble talons. Her eyes aren’t brown anymore, more like a blood red that spreads across her pupils till that’s the only thing he can see in her eyes. Like those demons from that show on TV he watches from time to time, Supernatural if he recalls correctly. 

She hisses at him, yanking him closer to her body. There’s a hand placed under his chin, forcefully exposing his neck to the woman and he flinches when she sniffs. “So that snacker got to you first, huh? Well, finder’s keepers; you’re coming with me. I’ve never met anyone immune to my glamour. And you smell so delicious…”

“No! Let me go!”

“Now, now, there’s no need to be fussy,” it’s like he’s a child all over again being reprimanded by an adult. It makes his face heat up with anger. She licks his throat experimentally, chuckling. “I’m going to take you home with me and drink you all up. Then maybe I’ll devour the rest of you; night’s still young and teenagers always taste better.”

Oh hell no, he did not escape from Jerry to deal with some cannibalistic vampire. He kicks at her, but it’s like kicking a wall. She doesn’t even flinch, and she just clicks her tongue at him, wagging a finger. “That wasn’t very nice, little boy. This won’t be so bad, you won’t even feel half of it. I’m not like one of those animalistic snackers. I won’t torture you longer than I have to, so it’s  a win for both of us.”

He’s not even sure how that is a win, but decides reasoning with a vampire is pretty pointless. She doesn’t seem to have any problem with killing him, no moral reasoning telling her not to, so he thinks it’s safe to assume she’s an older vampire. Maybe as old as Jerry. 

“Jerry won’t like this,” oh god, he can’t believe he’s using that line, but he’s running out of options. There’s no one out to help him and even if he manages to find someone, they’re probably going to be a vampire as well. Jerry was right, this neighborhood is full of filthy bloodsuckers. 

“Oohh, so it’s Jerry who got you. I didn’t even know he was back in town; I’ll have to pay him a visit,” she laughs cruelly. “I’m sure I can get him to forgive me, we have history.”

Of course they do, and he’s not sure why that irritates him, but he’ll question that later when and if he gets away from this lady. Just how many vampires does Jerry know? Wait, no, he doesn’t really know if he wants to find out. He struggles even harder and he swears her grip is harder than iron and just as painful. It’s cutting into his circulation, leaving an oddly numb feeling in his fingers. 

She’s easily dragging him to her car, ignoring his efforts of digging his heels into the pavement. He manages to trip over a crack in the sidewalk and she momentarily loses her grip. He lands on his knees, a sharp pain on his knee as the skin slides against the concrete. He skids his hands too, and instantly the weird thing on his palm tingles. 

“Such a clumsy boy,” she sneers and kneels down, immediately grabbing his shin before he can move away. A sharp claw rips through the fabric covering his knee and she gingerly places a finger on the scrape. It’s not bleeding too bad, but he’s a little surprised that it hasn’t healed completely. Maybe it depends on the seriousness of the injury? He doesn’t know, but the way she runs a clawed finger over the scrap to draw blood makes him nauseous. She makes a great show of cleaning her finger, but pauses once she withdraws. Her eyes narrow in surprise, staring at him with an unsettling amount of intrigue. “Well now,” she says this with a fair amount of interest, a small stain of blood lingering on the corner of her upper lip. “That’s interesting.”

Fuck. He winches as her grip sharpens on his shin, attempting to kick her away. “Get the fuck away from me!”

“Don’t be a brat,” she snarls, and there’s something that changes in her eyes. He knows that look; he’s seen it before on another certain vampire he knows. The hungry eyes of a predator that knows it has cornered its prey. She looks like a feral cat, her sharp fangs peeking out over her lower lip. There’s only four of them, unlike Jerry’s top two fangs, but that doesn’t make her any less terrifying. She begins to pull him forward with only her hand, ignoring his protest as he’s dragged across the pavement. “The council needs to hear about this! We can’t let a prize like you get away or be killed.”

He doesn’t even fully process what happens next until there’s a nauseating smell of burning flesh and ringing in his ears as she howls painfully. Like a wounded animal that knows its dying, he can’t help but feel a small ounce of pity for her. Then again, she had been trying to kidnap him a second ago, so again, he doesn’t feel that bad. 

It happened when she reached for him, hand coming to grip his shoulder when the thing on his palm instantly came alive. Like an electric shock that rippled across his whole body and he instinctively knew what to do. With his tattooed hand, he grabbed her arm and she suddenly went up in smoke, just like Doris had. And the memory of his neighbor made his gut wrench horribly with shame and nausea. 

He only sits there and watches as her screams begin to fade away, and her body turns to blackened ash before crumbling to the ground in a haphazard pile. For a moment, there’s calm. Nothing but the quiet street and the sounds small animals and insects getting ready for the night. 

Then they show up.

He crawls backwards as several people are gathering on the street and sidewalk where the incident just occurred. He grimaces at the ash that gets under his fingernails and clothes, a sudden urge to throw up churning around in his stomach. No one’s made an attempt to go near him, instead, staring at him with wide eyes and whispering to each other quite loudly. 

“What just happened? That’s Elizabeth Báthory’s car!”

“Where is she? Did he do it? Is that boy a hunter?”

“No, look at him! He’s too scrawny! He’s still a boy!”

“He did this! That boy! What did he do?”

They’re starting to crowd around him and his heart is beating so loudly it's beginning to drown out their voices. Their faces range from mildly perplexed to downright murderous, and they’re the ones he’s most worried about right now. 

“Let’s kill him!” one of them hisses, one with an angry look on their face. “How dare he kill one of our own!”

“Let’s drain him dry and leave his body to rot! That’s what he gets for killing an Elder!”

This is it. This is how he’s going to die and no matter what the tingling sensation in his palm tells him, there’s no way he’s going to kill all these vampires. There’s too many; he’s doomed. 

“You could drain him, but I don’t think there’s enough of him to go around. And I have to say I don’t like sharing.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Jerry Dandridge is standing right in front him along with a girl with long black hair. The same girl, he believes, he pushed into a bush a few minutes ago since there is still a single leaf in her hair. Their backs are facing him and he’s met with a awful conclusion.

Jerry has essentially become his knight in shining armor. God fucking damnit. 

~

“Fucking vampires, showing up unannounced at my door. For Christ’s sake, my hunting days are over. But noo, that fucking kid had to drag me into his mess. Fucking hell!”

He takes a quick swig of his midori sour, glancing back at the girl sitting cross armed in his apartment. He gestured towards the bar. “Want anything?”

“No, thank you,” she spoke without missing a beat, steady gaze never leaving his. Even after his small rant about her boyfriend, her impassive gaze doesn’t waver. If anything, it just continues to bore him down, making him more on edge than he already is. 

“I want you to help me get Charley back.”

Ah, there it is. He takes another gulp of his drink, taking in the bitter substance with a blanched face. “I’ve told you already, I can’t help you. Look, your boyfriend’s either dead or turned. Either way, Jerry wins,” he says with thinly veiled annoyance, though her gaze still doesn’t waver. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He briefly questions why teenagers are so annoyingly persistent, now wishing Paul was still alive so he could remove the girl from his penthouse. He returns his focus back to the girl. “Look, Annie, go back home to your normal life-”

“It’s Amy,” she interrupts and for a moment, he can see she’s somewhat annoyed. It passes before he can analyze it any further and she stands up, arms crossed defiantly. “And there is no way I can go back home and pretend to have a normal life. Not after what I’ve seen in these past few days.”

“It’s a lost cause,” he argues back. “You think Jerry will come back? Please, a vampire that old is not an idiot.”

“Then we go to him!”

“We? There is no fucking we!” he slams his glass down on the bar. She jumps, but doesn’t falter in her gaze. He runs a hand through his greasy hair (he hasn’t showered in days; he just can’t bring himself to do it), and there’s a steady flame of anger lighting up. Not irritation, pure unadulterated anger. Towards Amy, Charley, to everyone and everything that’s caused grief in his life. He snaps at Amy. “It’s your boyfriend’s own fault he got caught up in all this! If he’d just minded his own fucking business…”

He can’t bring himself to say their names and he picks up his drink to down it in one fell swoop. Ginger, Paul, neither of them deserved to die like that. No one does really, but life was a bitch like that. There’s a burst of grief that spreads through his chest, warm and sickening that he drinks the sour right from the bottle. 

“He was trying to protect us; protect me,” Amy steps near him, and he can hear the slight crack in her voice and see the tears beginning to crystalize in her eyes. “What was he supposed to do? Pretend he never saw anything?”

“That’s what most people would do,” he rolls his eyes at her glare. “And don’t give me that look, you know I’m right. I’m a realist, love.”

“Charley’s different,” the way her voice grows soft catches his attention and with how much sadness is burning in her blue orbs, he has to turn his face away. He’s not good at the comforting bit and he won’t admit it out loud, but he does feel sorry for her. She didn’t ask to be dragged into this mess either and now here she was in his apartment practically begging. “Please, Mr. Vincent,” oh jeez, now she’s giving him the sad bambi eyes, Jesus Christ. Hell, her lips are even trembling. “You have to help me get him back, please. I don’t know anything about vampires, but you do. So please, I’m asking you to help me.”

“And I’m telling you to not get involved. Trust me, you do not want to get involved.”

“Yes, I do!”

“For Christ sake, no, you don’t!” he shouts and she flinches, but quickly recovers. He’s half tempted to throw his glass against the wall, just to hear it shatter and find an excuse to get away from the blonde haired teenager. He even feels the urge to shake her, just to get the idea out of her thick skull. “You have, no bloody idea what’s out there. You think Jerry’s bad? Wait till you meet more of his kind! Oh, and did I mention there’s different types of vampires? And werewolves! Did I forget witches? Because there are  witches and they will do worse than drop a fucking house on your head!”

He’s not entirely surprised when she snaps back at him. “Fine. You’re right, I know nothing about the supernatural. That’s fair. But you know what’s not fair? Sitting around at home while my boyfriend is possibly being tortured, or worse, is already dead. And despite the fact I thought he was a little crazy, he still protected me. We all thought he had lost his mind, but he still did his best to keep me and his mom safe. I am not going to sit on my ass and do nothing.”

He rolls his eyes again. “Determination is not going to keep you from getting killed, or worse, turned. You don’t just become a hunter in one day. It takes years of experience and knowledge.”

“So come with me!”

He’s almost out of midori sour by this point, cringing in distaste at the fact. “My hunting days are over, Amy. I’ll give a hunter a weapon from time to time, but that’s it.”

Her glare turns frosty. “I bet you’ve never hunted a day in your life.”

She’s definitely bitchy, he’ll give her that. Pushy too. He lifts up his t-shirt, turning his body around to his right side. “See this?” he indicates to the lower half of his rib cage, watching as her eyes widen. The scar was from a particularly bad hunt with a werewolf that had almost gotten him and another hunter killed. “If we hadn’t killed the damn wolf a few minutes after getting this, I would have died from blood loss. Fucking beast cut close enough to get my liver. That could be you, or something even worse could happen.”

She juts her chin out in determination, almost making her seem haughty. “I’m still going to save him. If I have to do it alone, fine. You can sit here and be a coward, but I’m going to save my boyfriend.”

He has to admit, he’s a bit impressed by her spunk. She’s still annoying as fuck, however, her jab stings more than he normally let it would. So what if he’s a coward? It’s better than being a suicidal bastard, dragging unsuspecting victims into horrible situations. No one stays alive in this world by jumping head first into trouble. Charley should have just ignored Jerry, or whatever the bloody fuck his name was. 

_ “I’m not crazy; I’m not! I don’t want to know this shit!” _

The kid had sounded desperate when he first arrived into his penthouse, begging him to believe his story. For a moment, he saw his own self reflecting off the teen. Right after his parents were murdered by that vampire; being kept in the police station before the social worker came to collect him. They all told him it was trauma, that he just imagined it was a vampire. But he knew, oh hell, did he know. 

If his parents hadn’t been hunters, this might not have happened. Of course, the universe is constantly laughing in his face, so there’s the off chance it could have happened regardless of their profession. Either way, he doesn’t encourage this girl, this incredibly young girl, to throw her life away just to kill one vampire. In his experience, once you kill one, you have to deal with the rest. The maker, other children, the job never fucking ends.

“Call me what you want, but I’m still alive. You want to try and kill Jerry? Good luck, because vampires come in packaged deals,” at the look of confusion on her face, he sighs irritably. “Just because they’re nomadic and prefer solitude doesn’t mean they don’t have friends. His maker could still be alive and trust me, you don’t want to deal with an angry maker. If he’s on good terms with any of the children he’s created, they’ll come after you. Siblings will too. So if you did manage to kill him, you’ll have to deal with them for the rest of your life. Or until they kill you.”

She looks uneasy, taking several steps back to sit in the large gothic style black chair. She sniffles, wiping the few stray tears leaking out of her eyes profusely. He’s not here to make her feel better; he’s trying to keep her from throwing away her life. He shouldn’t be anyone’s role model or hero, but he can at least deter her from going down the same road he went on. 

When she finally speaks again, there’s a hitch in her voice, likely from the crying that she’s been trying to keep at a minimum. “You really expect me to just forget him? Graduate from school and move on? No, you think you’re the only one with problems? I know what it’s like to feel abandoned, and I’m not going to let that happen to him,” she crosses her arms again, having uncrossed them before and as before, her eyes are bright like fire. Her tone is cool, but he can feel the emotion behind them, raw and unbridled. “I feel sorry for you. Sit here on your ass and twiddle your thumbs, but just so you know if we both die, our blood is on your hands.”

He glares hotly at her. “You’re a little know it all, aren’t you? You don’t know anything.”

“Well then educate me.”

She’s sassy too, and on any other occasion, he’d appreciate that. Right now though, he just wants a damn advil. Or vicodin, vicodin works too. “Just get the fuck out of my house, will you? I’ve made up my mind!”

She opens her mouth to respond when there’s a pounding sound on his front door. For a quick moment he notices Amy freeze up, eyes widening ever so slightly. The knocking doesn’t stop, and he curses under his breath as she suddenly gets up. She pulls something out of her jacket; a crudely made makeshift stake and steps closer to the front door. 

It can’t be Jerry since he already has access into the apartment, so he would have no need of knocking. Unless it’s to just be a jerk, in which case, that doesn’t really surprise him. 

It can’t be that other kid, Ed, he thinks because his ashes are still all over the floor. 

So he follows Amy, body tensing in either fight or flight mode, ready to make a decision based on who comes through the door. She glances at him briefly before she slowly opens it, the shaking of her hand barely visible as she grips the door handle tightly.

She flings it open, stake poised and ready when she drops it suddenly. He’s momentarily relieved until she pulls the figure into the complex, arms wrapping around her tightly.

It feels like he’s been struck by lightning. Run over by a train, or bitch slapped across the face by the very hand of Karma herself. 

It’s her, the very last person he’d even think he’d see again. Yet, there she is, standing in his entry way with her arms tightly wrapped around Amy. There’s another woman standing a little bit behind her, clearly older and he thinks he knows her, but can’t think of a name due to the fuzzy and sick feeling in his mind right now. 

However, there’s no mistaking the blonde haired woman. Despite looking older and more mature, definitely holding a lingering sadness, but her face still holds strong in his mind. Breathtakingly beautiful with a hint of loneliness in those blue eyes. If he’s sober enough to start reminiscing about past love affairs, she’s the top of the list. Those eyes are her best features and though blue is a common color, there was something about hers that drew him in. Like he was drawn in some sort of spell or trance. Which, of course, was absolutely ludicrous. 

She suddenly finds him and she freezes, her whole body growing tense as a flash of shock crosses her eyes. Amy’s looking at her questioningly, gaze darting between him and the woman who suddenly crashed back into his life.

“Michael?”

“Jane?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, bet you didn't see that one coming, did ya?
> 
> Okay, so I spent a long time trying to see how I wanted to portray the idea of Charley's father. My sister, who reads my story and gives me feedback, can attest to this. I literally spent months trying to decide how I wanted to do this. This story is going to have OCs, and I want to limit how many I have in so not to distract from the main characters we already have. For a while, I couldn't decide if I wanted to create an OC as Charley's father, or the idea of Peter. 
> 
> So to not have too many OCs running around, I decided to have Peter be the father. Don't worry, there will be a reason and explanation on why his name was Michael, but I won't reveal that right now. And no, Peter is still human and a retired hunter, not a supernatural. 
> 
> I hope you guys continue reading this! Please leave a comment to let me know what you think! Comments are what keep me going and make me want to continue!

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment! Or bookmark or kudo if you would like. Feed back is food for the soul


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